Playing Games
by izzyandrews123
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are really brother and sister, and Katniss falls in love with someone else (Finnick). I started writing this on another fanfic site a few years ago. But I want to rewrite it and post it here. Without giving too much away its very similar to the book with some twists. I don't want to spoil to much! Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Rating bc I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1 Reaping

**Chapter One: Reaping**

 **This is staying pretty close to the book and starts with the reaping.**

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Rings through the square in Effie Trinkets bubbly voice.

I can't help but think the odds are not in Gales favor, or mine for that matter. Gale has his name in their 42 times and mine is in there 20 times. Suddenly I feel really nervous for Gale. 42 times is a lot! But t _here are thousands of slips in that bowl._ I try to reassure myself. Thank God Prim only has one slip in that bowl!

"Ladies first!" Effie walks to the ball with the girls names and pulls out a slip.

I hold my breath. I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me.

"Primrose Everdeen" Effie reads in a clear voice.

I am stunned and I try to remember how to breathe. I almost fall over but someone tips me back up. This can't be happening. Prim had one slip, ONE SLIP in thousands! I didn't even worry about her getting chosen.

Then I see her, making small steps to the stage. "Prim!" I yell coming back to life, "Prim!"

I start running towards her. A peacekeeper tries to stop me by I refuse, "I volunteer!" I gasp, "I volunteer as tribute."

There is some confusion since district 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades.

"No Katniss!" No you can't go!" Prim screams holding onto my legs!

I feel someone pull her away and I look to see Gale fighting to stay steady. He gives me a sad look and takes Prim to my mother.

"Lovely, that's the spirit of the Games." Effie says as I walk onto the stage, "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen," I speak as clearly as I can still in shock.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

To the credit of district 12, nobody does. Instead, everyone offers me the three finger salute of district 12.

I'm greeted by Haymitch drunkenly and Effie goes to the boys bowl. I'm not really paying attention to her chatter. Still in shock her voice sounds far away, but I hear her say, "Peeta Mellark."

 _Oh no. Oh no, not him._

Of course I know Peeta. He is 17 a year older than me. We go to school together. Despite that, I have never spoken to him. Not once, but I have always been aware of him. I know a secret about us, about our families. My mother and Peeta's mother are sisters. Peeta is my cousin.


	2. Chapter 2 Cousins

**Chapter Two: Cousins**

I remember when I was around 6, my father took me to the bakery. We had just finished hunting in the woods and my Dad had some squirrels in the game bag.

As soon as we walked in a lady came out from the back. When she saw us her smile instantly faded and was furious.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed at my father.

"Come on now, it's been 7 years. Don't you want to see her? Meet your nieces? Have her meet your sons?" My father whispered as if to keep from my hearing.

"She made her choices when she married you and turned herself into another piece of seam trash."

As they continue on I saw a little boy with gold hair and blue eyes that matched mine peak around the counter at me. He smiled at me, then scurried away when his mother looked at him.

Then five years later my father died in a mine accident. I was suddenly in charge of feeding my mother and Prim. We were starving and my mother just shut down. I wasn't old enough to sign up for tesserae yet. I was looking through people's trash in town and I ended up outside the bakery. Peeta saw me and threw me partially burned loaves of bread, ignoring his mother who told him to give it to the pigs. I remember her saying we weren't their problem.

I always wanted to speak to him, to say thank you. But I never did. I remember looking at him the next day at school, and I couldn't bring myself to go talk to him. When he looked up and caught my eye I immediately looked down. That's when I saw it: the first dandelion of the year. A bell went off in my head and I knew we were going to survive. I remembered everything my Dad taught me in the woods.

Every once in a while baskets of bread showed up at the back door. I assumed it was Peeta who placed them there. I never had the courage to ask him or thank him. Without that bread we would have suffered a lot, especially during the winter. I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people.

I always wondered if he knew that our mothers were sisters. I knew my mother came from town, that's why my eyes were blue instead of the traditional grey seam eyes. My dad had grey eyes. Maybe he does know and maybe that's why he left the bread after my dad died. My Dad always said, _you always take care of family, no matter what._

My mind rushes back to the present where goodbyes are going by in a blur and I'm being hurried onto a train headed to the Capitol where I will most likely die.

On the train, Peeta, Effie, and I sit down to a lavish table piled high with food. It's enough food to feed a family in the seam for a month. It makes me sick. But I eat because I have never seen this much food in my life. Effie chatters during dinner but I mostly tune her out.

After dinner we sit to watch the reaping from all the districts. I see all the people I will be facing in the area. _How am I going to kill these people._ I promised Prim I would come back to her.

"It's just like hunting..." Gale told me in his goodbye.

Peeta's dad, my uncle came to say goodbye to me. I realize he must know we are related. He gave me a box of cookies and stared at me with tears in his eyes before telling me to stay safe and hugging me tight. That was the first time I ever spoke to him.

I sneak a look at Peeta, how can I kill my own family? Even if I have never spoken to him before. Does he even know we are related? I sigh, there are 24 of us, odds are someone else will kill him before I have too.

"What did I miss?" Haymitch slurs stumbling into the room.

"Nothing, nothing Haymitch." Effie smiles, "We saved you some dessert."

There is more dessert than any of could hope to eat in a week on the table. Haymitch stumbles toward the table and leans over like he is going to pick something up, but instead he throws up all over himself. It smells really bad.

Peeta and I both stand up not sure what to do.

"I'll take him to his room and clean him up," Peeta suggests.

"I'll help you." I say taking a step towards them.

"It's okay, I'll take him." Peeta says.

I not and head to my room wondering why he insists on taking care of him. All of a sudden I realize, it's because he is being kind. Just like when he smiled at me in the bakery and threw me bread.

The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind Peeta Mellark. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there. And I can't let Peeta do this. Not where we are going. It's bad enough he's family. My dad always told me, _We take care of family, no matter what._ Even if I don't kill him I will still never see him again after the game is over. So I decide from that moment on, to do as little as possible with him.


	3. Chapter 3 Haymitch

**Chapter Three: Haymitch**

In the morning I walk to the dining car for breakfast. Everyone else is already there. As soon as I sit down a plate piled high with food is placed in front of me. I look at the plate and think about home. _What is Prim eating for breakfast this morning?_ I lay my fork down, wishing I could share the meal with her.

I notice Peeta looking at me, when I look up I expect him to look down but he doesn't. Instead he gestures to my plate, "Katniss you need to eat."

Why does he care if I eat or not? I automatically think. As if he read my thoughts, "You need to keep your strength up, we will be at the Capitol soon."

I look back down at my plate and back up at him confused. His eyes are pleading with me to eat. For some reason I feel like I need to listen to him. Picking up my fork I take a small bite. The food tastes so good I can't help but dig in.

As I'm eating I notice Haymitch. Eyes red and hung over already pouring liquor into his cup. My fists clench and I'm furious out of nowhere. It hits me that Haymitch is the reason district 12 tributes never win. District 12 rarely gets sponsors like the other districts. The rich people who back tributes expect to deal with someone cleaner and more sober than Haymitch.

"So you are supposed to give us advice." I say to Haymitch.

"Here's some advice: Stay Alive." Haymitch says then bursts into laughter.

I exchange a look with Peeta before I remember I'm having nothing to do with him.

For the first time I see a hardness in Peeta's eyes. "That's very funny." he says and shatters Haymitch's glass of alcohol, "only not to us." he finishes.

Considering this for a moment Haymitch leans back and punches Peeta in the jaw. He reaches for the bottle and I drive my knife into the table between his hand and the bottle. I brace myself for the worst but instead he sits back and looks at us.

"Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" Haymitch says with a smile.

Haymitch stands up and circles us mumbling to himself, seeming satisfied. "Alright, I will make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do as I say."

"Fine," Peeta says.

"So help us," I say and start asking him questions about the arena.

Haymitch holds up his hand cutting me off. "One thing at at time. In a few minutes, we will be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist.

"But-" I begin.

"No buts, don't resist." Haymitch takes the bottle of liquor and leaves the car.

As we pull into the Capitol Peeta and I watch through the window. Peeta starts waving trying to win over the crowd. I realize he is making a plan, he's already fighting hard to stay alive.

All I can think about when I look out the window is that I already hate this place and these colorful people.

I start to pull away from the window, disgusted with these people but Peeta catches my wrist. My first reaction is to hit him but I hesitate. He nods his head to the window, "One of them may be rich." he reminds me, keeping me at the window.

I look at him and he seems genuinely concerned about me. Why does he care? Even if he does know we are cousins, why does it matter to him how I do? He should be trying to keep his distance from me too.

I shake my head, but I don't move away from the window.


	4. Chapter 4 Opening Ceremony

**Chapter Four: Opening Ceremony**

Once we are off the train I am thrust into the hands of my prep team. After quick introductions they get to work.

They treat me like I'm a doll they can manipulate any way they want. It annoys me but I soon realize that they can and that is exactly what I am. They pluck, wax, scrub, pull, buff, and tug on every inch of my body. My body is tingling with an ache all over my skin from their efforts.

It feels like I have been there for days when they finally say I am done and hand me a robe to put on. They lead me to another room to wait for Cinna.

I sit with Cinna and we talk. I'm surprised to find that I like him. He is more 'normal' than the traditional person from the Capitol. We talk about everything, and I feel comfortable with him.

For the opening ceremony all tributes wear outfits that reflect their districts. District 4 fishing, district 7 lumber, district 11 agriculture.

"So, I'll be in a coal miner outfit?" I ask.

"Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think the coal miner thing is very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make district 12 tributes unforgettable." says Cinna, "So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal."

I sigh, remembering the tributes from a previous year naked and covered with black dust.

"And what do we do with coal?"Cinna continues, "We burn it. Your not afraid of fire are you Katniss?"

A few hours later I am dressed in what will wither be the most sensational or deadliest costume in the opening ceremonies. I'm in a simple black unitard that covers me from ankle to neck. Shiny leather boots laced up to my knees. But it's the fluttering cake made of streams of orange, yellow, and red and the matching head piece that define the costume. Cinna plans to light them on fire just before our chariot rolls into the streets.

"It's not real flames of course, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You'll be perfectly safe." Cinna reassures me. But I'm not convinced I won't be perfectly barbecued by the time we reach the city's center.

Other than the outfit I look like myself. Only a little makeup and my hair braided like it usually is. Cinna says that's to make sure they recognize me in the games.

I'm actually relieved when Peeta shows up, and I have to remind myself that I am supposed to be staying away from him. Peeta is dressed in an identical costume. We're whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which is essentially a gigantic stable. The opening ceremonies are about to start. Pairs of tributes are being loaded into chariots pulled by four horses. Cinna and Portia direct us into the chariot and carefully arrange our body positions, and the drape of our capes.

"What do you think?" I whisper to Peeta, "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," he says through gritted teeth.

"Deal," I say. Maybe if we get them off soon enough we'll avoid the worst burns. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said but I don't think he considered this angle."

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" says Peeta.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around and open flame," I say but I'm thinking, where is he, he did promise to help us. I look around.

Cinna appears with a lighted torch. "Here we go then," he says, and before we can react he sets our capes on fire. I gasp, waiting for the heat but there is only a faint tickling sensation. Cinna climbs up before us and ignites out head pieces. He lets out a sigh of relief, "It works." Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high, and smiles, they are going to love you!"

Cinna jumps off the chariot and has one last idea. he shouts something up at us, but the music drowns him out. He shouts again and gestures.

"Whats he saying?" I aks Peeta.

"I think he said for us to hold hands." Peeta says. He grabs his my right hand with his left and we look to Cinna for confirmation. He nodds and gives a thumbs up. Then we start moving.

I don't see Haymitch until we start moving, he is all the way up near where district four's chariot was. He is talking to, two other victors. One of them I don't recognize, he is closer to Haymitchs age and I must have not seen his games. The other one I recognize as the heart throb of the Capitol, Finnick Odair. Hmm I wonder what he is doing.

The crowd cheers and shouts when the see our costumes. Every head is turned our way looking and pointing at us. At first I'm frozen but then I catch a glimpse of us on the screen and I am floored by how breathtaking we look. I hear Cinna's voice in my head and lift my chin a bit higher, and smile. I wave with my free hand. As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd. The people of the Capitol are going nuts, showering us with flowers, and shouting our names.

Cinna has given me a great advantage. No one will forget me. Not my look. Not my name. Katniss, The girl who was on fire.

For the first time I start to feel a flicker of hope. With the help of a sponsor, some food and the right weapon, why should I count myself out of the Games?

We are pulled to the center of the city, right up to president snow's mansion. He welcomes the tributes. The darker it gets the harder it is to look away from out flames, and everyone is staring at us, even the camera crew. After we are all wheeled into the training center.

I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all. Portia helps us down and extinguishes our flames.

I realize I'm still holding onto Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there," says Peeta.

"It didn't show, I'm sure no one noticed." I tell him. I start to feel a little strange about the way Cinna has linked us together. It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you." he says and then gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. I should be shocked and embarrassed when he gently pats my back like I am a child but somehow it feels right and familiar. After a second I realize it is the same way my Dad used to do it.

I shake my head to clear it. Does he know? Of course he wouldn't know, his mother would never have had told him. Don't be stupid I tell myself, the more likable he is, the more deadly he can be, getting me to trust him just to kill me.

Haymitch starts walking toward us, hopefully to guide us to where we need to be. He is still talking to someone, Finnick Odair. I realize Finnick must be mentoring his own tributes now.

We both start to speak as Haymitch approaches, but he cuts us off holding up his hand. "We will talk later, not now, now down here." he silences us.

Finnick Odair is looking at me with beautiful green eyes and I can't help at smile at him. Every women in the Capitol swoons for him and I can't help but notice why. I shake my head to clear it again. W _hat is wrong with me today._ I won't let him affect me, I won't be just another silly girl fawning over him.

Haymitch sees my smile and is confused. He turns and sees Finnick standing there, I guess he expected him to go see his tributes. Haymitch clears his throat.

Finnick slaps him on the back, "Just spending a little extra time with my friend," Finnick tells Haymitch.

I laugh, "Haymitch I didn't know you were capable of having friends."

Haymitch glares at me, but Finnick laughs, "The girl on fire has some spark, does she?" he says with a smile. He leans towards me and says quietly, "You should wear flames more often, they suit you." and he walks away without a backward glance. I feel my face turn red.


	5. Chapter 5 Training Center

**Chapter Five: Training Center**

Haymitch guides us toward the elevator. Each district has their own floor, being district 12 we are on the very top. Effie is at the elevator gushing about how well we did. We are her first team that has made a splash at the opening ceremonies.

She says she has been talking us up to everyone who's everyone trying to win us sponsors. "I've been very mysterious though, because of course Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

Barbarism? That's ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare us for slaughter. And what's she basing our success on? Our table manners?

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said 'well if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls.'" Effie beams at us and we have no choice but to respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though its wrong.

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that." Effie says grimly glaring at Haymitch, "But don't you worry, I'll get him going at gunpoint if necessary."

Haymitch just shrugs.

Our floor at the training center is huge. My bedroom alone is bigger than our house back home in the seam in district 12. There are luxuries I never dreamed existed. I'm exploring my room when Effie calls me to dinner.

I come out to the huge dining table to greet Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, Cinna, and Portia. Haymitch is actually clean and groomed and the soberest I have ever seen him. I wonder if he has had his own stylist.

We have a delicious meal. Everyone else is talking, small talk mostly, but I focus on my meal. After the meal we watch the replay of the opening ceremonies.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" Asks Haymitch.

"Cinna's" says Portia.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," says Haymitch, "very nice."

Rebellion? I have to think about that one a moment when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist, as if the Games had already begun, I know what Haymitch means. Presenting ourselves not as adversaries but as friends has distinguished us as much as the fiery costumes.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch says to Peeta and I. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Peeta and I walk together down the corridor to our rooms. When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him. "Do you know?" Peeta asks me.

"Know what?"

Peeta picks up on my hesitation. "Have you been on the roof yet?" I shake my head. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though."

I translate this into "No one will overhear us talking" in my head. You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance here. "Can we just go up?"

"Sure, come on," says Peeta. I follow him to a flight of stairs that lead to the roof. There's a small dome-shaped room with a door to the outside. As we step into the cool, windy evening air, I catch my breath at the view. The Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. Electricity in District 12 comes and goes, usually we only have it a few hours a day. Often the evenings are spent in candlelight. The only time you can count on it is when they're airing the Games or some important government message on television that it's mandatory to watch. But here there would be no shortage. Ever. Peeta and I walk to a railing at the edge of the roof. I look straight down the side of the building to the street, which is buzzing with people. You can hear their cars, an occasional shout, and a strange metallic tinkling. In District 12, we'd all be thinking about bed right now.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" says Peeta.

"What'd he say?" I ask.

"You can't," says Peeta. He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There's a sharp zap and he jerks it back. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety," I say. Even though Cinna has shown Peeta the roof, I wonder if we're supposed to be up here now, so late and alone. I've never seen tributes on the Training Center roof before. But that doesn't mean we're not being taped. "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe," he admits. "Come see the garden."

On the other side of the dome, they've built a garden with flower beds and potted trees. From the branches hang hundreds of wind chimes, which account for the tinkling I heard. Here in the garden, on this windy night, it's enough to drown out two people who are trying not to be heard. Peeta looks at me expectantly.

I don't answer his question, being on the roof reminds me of Gales offer of running away, "Maybe I should have run away when I had the chance."

This catches Peeta off guard, "When you had the chance?"

I tell him about being in the woods with Gale before the reaping.

"Where would you have gone?" he asks, "There isn't anywhere after district 12, except district 13 ruins. They would have found you eventually and who knows what they would have done to you." Peeta shudders at the thought.

I nod, "Is anything worse than being thrown into an arena forced to kill each other?"

"I don't think I want to find out." Peeta says and he looks scared for me, not himself. "Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" I ask.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something." he says.

"No, we're not related," I say. Ironic, Peetas the one I'm related to. Gale and I look nothing alike, I wonder why he thought that.

Peeta nods, unreadable. "Did he come to say good-bye to you?"

"Yes," I say, observing him carefully. "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

Peeta raises his eyebrows as if this is news. "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. He knew your mother when they were kids," says Peeta and he looks at me expectantly.

Another surprise. How would Peeta know this? He must know. Its probably true. He married her sister, of course she must have known him. "Oh, yes. She grew up in town," I say. It seems impolite to say she never mentioned the baker except to compliment his bread. Then again, she never mentioned her sister except to say she had a one.

Its getting chilly, so we start to walk back inside. I stop outside Peeta's door with him. "Peeta, do you know..." I trail off because he holds up his hand indicating that we could be overheard.

He nods his head, then hugs me tight. "I wish I could have gotten to know you before this, I always knew there was something, some kind of connection," he shakes his head. I am brought back to all of the times I caught his eyes on me in school and in town. "if I had known sooner, I would have found a way." he whispers in my ear. Placing his hand on top of my head, almost like I would do to Prim, he turns and walks away.

He goes into his room without another word and closes his door.

As I walk into my room I let the tears run down my face. He knows we are related. I should have never gone up on the roof with him. Why take the time to talk to him and get to know him when I am going to lose him in a few days time? Unlike his mother he is nice and kind, more like his father. I wish we could have known each other too.

Damn it! I pound my fist onto the bed. This is exactly what I told myself not to let happen. That's when I realize it: I can't kill him.


	6. Chapter 6 Plans

**This chapter comes a lot from the book but with and interesting twist.**

 **Chapter 6: Plans**

I wake and shower and get dressed. There is an outfit waiting for me when I get out of the shower. I put it on.

Haymitch didn't give us an exact time to meet for breakfast and no one has contacted me this morning, but I'm hungry so I head down to the dining room, hoping there will be food. I'm not disappointed. While the table is empty, a long board off to the side has been laid with at least twenty dishes. A young man, an Avox, stands at attention by the spread. When I ask if I can serve myself, he nods assent. I load a plate with eggs, sausages, batter cakes covered in thick orange preserves, slices of pale purple melon. As I gorge myself, I watch the sun rise over the Capitol. I have a second plate of hot grain smothered in beef stew

My mind wanders to my mother and Prim. They must be up. My mother getting their breakfast of mush. Prim milking her goat before school. Just two mornings ago, I was home. Can that be right? Yes, just two. And now how empty the house feels, even from a distance. What did they say last night about my fiery debut at the Games? Did it give them hope, or simply add to their terror when they saw the reality of twenty-four tributes circled together, knowing only one could live?

Haymitch and Peeta come in, bid me good morning, fill their plates. Peeta is wearing exactly the same outfit I am. This twins act is getting a little strange. Surely, they must know this. I look up and catch a glimpse of us in the mirror. I gasp. I don't know how I didn't realize it before but Peeta and I favor each other. We have the same eyes. Not just the same color, but the same shape and everything. I shake my head pushing the thought aside. Of course we might look alike, we are cousins.

Shaking my head trying to clear it I start thinking about training. I'm nervous about the training. There will be three days in which all the tributes practice together. On the last afternoon, we'll each get a chance to perform in private before the Gamemakers. The thought of meeting the other tributes face-toface makes me queasy.

When Haymitch has finished several platters of stew, he pushes back his plate with a sigh. He takes a flask from his pocket and takes a long pull on it and leans his elbows on the table. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" I ask.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch.

I exchange a look with Peeta. "I don't have any secret skills," he says. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

I never thought about Peeta eating the squirrels I shot. Somehow I always pictured the baker quietly going off and frying them up for himself. Not out of greed. But because town families usually eat expensive butcher meat. Beef and chicken and horse.

"You can coach us together," I tell Haymitch.

Peeta nods.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do,"says Haymitch.

"I can't do anything," says Peeta. "Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't. Katniss, I already know you're handy with a knife," says Haymitch.

"Not really. But I can hunt," I say. "With a bow and arrow."

"And you're good?" asks Haymitch.

I have to think about it. I've been putting food on the table for four years. That's no small task. I'm not as good as my father was, but he'd had more practice. I've better aim than Gale, but I've had more practice. He's a genius with traps and snares. "I'm all right," I say.

"She's excellent," says Peeta. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." This assessment of my skills from Peeta takes me totally by surprise. First, that he ever noticed. Second, that he's talking me up. "What are you doing?" I ask him suspiciously.

"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself," says Peeta.

I don't know why but this gives me an odd feeling. Like Peeta is trying to protect me.

"What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour," I snap at him. "Tell him that. That's not nothing."

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't," he shoots back.

"He can wrestle," I tell Haymitch. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" says Peeta in disgust.

"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" I can hear my voice rising.

"But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta.

"Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal.

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.

That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? Even after she has dismissed me from her family. I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.

Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me." Not just the one time either, how many times did I find bread in the doorway to our house? Peeta's eyes flicker down to the roll in my hands, and I know he remembers that day, too. But he just shrugs, patting my back as if to comfort me.

"People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," I say.

Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch. "She has no idea. The effect she can have." He runs his fingernail along the wood grain in the table, refusing to look at me.

What on earth does he mean? People help me? When we were dying of starvation, no one helped me! No one except Peeta. Once I had something to barter with, things changed. I'm a tough trader. Or am I? What effect do I have? That I'm weak and needy? Is he suggesting that I got good deals because people pitied me? I try to think if this is true. Perhaps some of the merchants were a little generous in their trades, but I always attributed that to their long-standing relationship with my father. Besides, my game is first-class. No one pitied me! I glower at the roll sure he meant to insult me.

After about a minute of this, Haymitch snorts, "Well, then. Well, well, well. You two squabble like siblings."

Peeta instantly turns to look at me. Haymitch doesn't realize how close he is. We aren't siblings but we are related. Does Haymitch know?

"Katniss, there's no guarantee they'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?" I realize he was just making an observation and blinking my eyes I am able to answer he question.

"I know a few basic snares," I mutter.

"That may be significant in terms of food," says Haymitch. "And Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?" says Haymitch.

Peeta and I nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute," says Haymitch. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

I bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure Peeta can hear the door slam. I sit on the bed, hating Haymitch, hating Peeta, hating myself for mentioning that day long ago in the rain.

I realize that I don't hate Peeta, and that's the problem. The more I get to know him and the more time I spend with him the harder it will be to kill him or watch him get killed.

It's weird, how much Peeta's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting. I have not been as oblivious to him but since I knew he was my cousin I watched him. Just curious about him. Perhaps he did the same.

It's almost ten. I clean my teeth and smooth back my hair again. By the time I meet Effie and Peeta at the elevator, I catch myself biting my nails. I stop at once.


	7. Chapter 7 Training

**This is a long chapter and a lot comes from the book but with and interesting twist. Especially at the end :)**

 **Chapter Seven: Training**

The actual training rooms are below ground level of our building. With these elevators, the ride is less than a minute. The doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses.

Although it's not yet ten, we're the last ones to arrive. The other tributes are gathered in a tense circle. They each have a cloth square with their district number on it pinned to their shirts. While someone pins the number 12 on my back, I do a quick assessment. Peeta and I are the only two dressed alike.

As soon as we join the circle, the head trainer, a tall, athletic woman named Atala steps up and begins to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per our mentor's instructions.

Some of the stations teach survival skills, others fighting techniques. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There are assistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner.

When Atala begins to read down the list of the skill stations, my eyes can't help flitting around to the other tributes. It's the first time we've been assembled, on level ground, in simple clothes. My heart sinks. Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than I am, even though many of the tributes have never been fed properly. You can see it in their bones, their skin, the hollow look in their eyes. I may be smaller naturally, but overall my family's resourcefulness has given me an edge in that area. I stand straight, and while I'm thin, I'm strong. The meat and plants from the woods combined with the exertion it took to get them have given me a healthier body than most of those I see around me.

The exceptions are the kids from the wealthier districts, the volunteers, the ones who have been fed and trained throughout their lives for this moment. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 traditionally have this look about them. It's technically against the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it happens every year. In District 12, we call them the Career Tributes, or just the Careers. And more likely than not, the winner will be one of them.

I'm thinking that it's lucky I'm a fast runner when Peeta nudges my arm and I jump. He is still beside me, per Haymitch's instructions. His expression is sober. "Where would you like to start?"

I look around at the Career Tributes who are showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. Then at the others, the underfed, the incompetent, shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax.

"Suppose we tie some knots," I say.

"Right you are," says Peeta. We cross to an empty station where the trainer seems pleased to have students. You get the feeling that the knot-tying class is not the Hunger games hot spot. When he realizes I know something about snares, he shows us a simple, excellent trap that will leave a human competitor dangling by a leg from a tree. We concentrate on this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it. Then we move on to camouflage. Peeta genuinely seems to enjoy this station, swirling a combination of mud and clay and berry juices around on his pale skin, weaving disguises from vines and leaves. The trainer who runs the camouflage station is full of enthusiasm at his work.

"I do the cakes," he admits to me.

"The cakes?" I ask. I've been preoccupied with watching the boy from District 2 send a spear through a dummy's heart from fifteen yards. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," he says. He means the ones they display in the windows. Fancy cakes with flowers and pretty things painted in frosting. They're for birthdays and New Year's Day. When we're in the square, Prim always drags me over to admire them, although we'd never be able to afford one. There's little enough beauty in District 12, though, so I can hardly deny her this.

I look more critically at the design on Peeta's arm. The alternating pattern of light and dark suggests sunlight falling through the leaves in the woods. I wonder how he knows this, since I doubt he's ever been beyond the fence. Has he been able to pick this up from just that scraggly old apple tree in his backyard? Somehow the whole thing - his skill, those inaccessible cakes, the praise of the camouflage expert - annoys me.

"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death," I say.

"Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake -" begins Peeta.

"Lets move on," I break in.

So the next three days pass with Peeta and I going quietly from station to station. We do pick up some valuable skills, from starting fires, to knife throwing, to making shelter. Despite Haymitch's order to appear mediocre, Peeta excels in hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible plants test without blinking an eye. We steer clear of archery and weightlifting though, wanting to save those for our private sessions. The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit in the elevated stands that surround the gymnasium, sometimes wandering about to watch us, jotting down notes, other times eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them, ignoring the lot of us. But they do seem to be keeping their eye on the District 12 tributes. Several times I've looked up to find one fixated on me. They consult with the trainers during our meals as well. We see them all gathered together when we come back.

Breakfast and dinner are served on our floor, but at lunch the twenty-four of us eat in a dining room off the gymnasium. Food is arranged on carts around the room and you serve yourself. The Career Tributes tend to gather rowdily around one table, as if to prove their superiority, that they have no fear of one another and consider the rest of us beneath notice. Most of the other tributes sit alone, like lost sheep. No one says a word to us.

Peeta and I eat together, and since Haymitch keeps dogging us about it, try to keep up a friendly conversation during the meals. Haymitch doesn't know we are related. It's not hard talking to Peeta. I can see myself getting along with Peeta until I remember where we are and that one or both of us are going to die. I try to distance myself but with Haymitch's orders it's hard.

On the second day, while we're taking a shot at spear throwing, he whispers to me. "I think we have a shadow." I throw my spear, which I'm not too bad at actually, if I don't have to throw too far, and see the little girl from District 11 standing back a bit, watching us. She's the twelve-year-old, the one who reminded me so of Prim in stature. Up close she looks about ten. She has bright, dark, eyes and satiny brown skin and stands tilted up on her toes with her arms slightly extended to her sides, as if ready to take wing at the slightest sound. It's impossible not to think of a bird. I pick up another spear while Peeta throws. "I think her name's Rue," he says softly.

I bite my lip. Rue is a small yellow flower that grows in the Meadow. Rue. Primrose. Neither of them could tip the scale at seventy pounds soaking wet.

"What can we do about it?" I ask him, more harshly than I intended.

"Nothing to do," he says back. "Just making conversation."

Now that I know she's there, it's hard to ignore the slips up and joins us at different stations. Like me, she's clever with plants, climbs swiftly, and has good aim. She can hit the target every time with a slingshot.

But what is a slingshot against a 220-pound male with a sword?

Back on the District 12 floor, Haymitch and Effie grill us throughout breakfast and dinner about every moment of the day. What we did, who watched us, how the other tributes size up. Cinna and Portia aren't around, so there's no one to add any sanity to the meals. Not that Haymitch and Effie are fighting anymore. Instead they seem to be of one mind, determined to whip us into shape. Full of endless directions about what we should do and not do in training. Peeta is more patient, but I become fed up and surly.

When we finally escape to bed on the second night, Peeta mumbles, "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink."

I make a sound that is somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Then catch myself. I'm supposed to be distancing myself from him. "Don't. Don't. Let's keep our distance when no ones around."

"All right, Katniss," he says tiredly, hurt.

"It's just one or both of us is going to die soon. Why...?" I trail off.

He nods his understanding.

After that I have a hard time sleeping. I am restless and I need to walk off some of this energy so I jump out of bed to take a walk. I'm still in my pajamas. Shorts and a tank top. I think about changing but it's late everyone else will be in bed.

As I walk down the hall I hear someone talking. There is a group of people sitting in the living room talking to Haymitch.

"Are you sure it's secure Beetee?" I see Johanna Mason ask.

"A little late to ask now Jo." Finnick laughs rolling his eyes. My breath catches in my throat when I hear his voice.

"Yes Johanna it's secure if anyone is watching they will see a empty room with Haymitch in bed." Beetee reassures her.

She lets out a breath along with the others only some of which I recognize as past victors. "If they learn of this before we are ready we are all dead."

"Well if it isn't the girl on fire," Finnick says catching my eye.

They all turn to look at me.

"What are you doing out of bed sweetheart?" Haymitch asks slightly annoyed.

"I.. I. I umm.." I stumble suddenly nervous.

"Speak brainless. What's wrong with her Haymitch." Johanna laughs.

"I just couldn't sleep. I wanted to stretch my legs."

"Go back to bed sweetheart." Haymitch tells me.

"I'll walk her back to bed." Finnick stands up. Johanna giving him an odd look.

As he makes his way over to me. I hear one of the others say "Think she heard anything?"

Another adding "Think she will say anything?"

"Not if she knows what's good for her." Johanna says catching my eyes.

Then Finnick is in front of me turning me around. He walks me back down the hall his hand on my back. It burns my skin through my thin top. He walks past my door and I gesture to it he shakes his head, "You wanted to walk right?"

I nod and he leads me up to the roof.

Instead of walking I sit down immediately and he sits next to me.

"What was that about?" I ask him. Unsure about what was happening right in front of me. It was obviously a secret if they didn't want the Capitol to see them.

Finnick sighs, "Nothing you need to worry about now." I look at him curiously. "All you need to worry about is the games."

I nod. I have a lot of questions I want to ask but I can tell he won't answer them.

I shiver and he puts his arm around me rubbing up and down to warm me up. When he touches my bare skin it's like it's on fire, in a good way. I look up at him and he's looking at me. I can tell he feels it too. I looks into his sea green eyes and I can't look away.

"What is it about you?" he asks to himself.

Suddenly he looks away fighting with himself then he looks back and asks, "Do you love him?"

"Who?" I say confused

"Peeta?"

His question takes me by surprise and I'm horrified to realize that I do love Peeta, but not the way Finnick means. I don't know when it happened or if it was always there but his question makes me realize it. "Not the way your suggesting." is the only thing I say, and I want to tell him Peeta is my cousin. But I don't, thinking that if it gets out it can be used against us. Damn Haymitch throwing us together making people think we might be in love.

"Good" is all he says when he gets up and helps me up.

He walks me back to my room. At the door he turns to face me. He tucks a piece if hair behind my ear. He stares for a minute and I'm happy to stare back. He shakes his head and smirks to something he must be thinking of and walks back to the living room.

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until he was out of sight. I close my eyes and wonder what just happened. Before I go into my room I hear the mumbled talking from the other room stop.

"Finnick.." Haymitch starts.

"Don't start Haymitch." Finnick says and I can tell he's rolling his eyes.

"Don't distract my tribute she actually has a chance of coming out of there."

"Attached to your tributes this year Haymitch?" I can't tell who says this but they are teasing him.

Haymitch grunts.

"They have sparked a lot of attention in the Capitol."

"What is their relationship Haymitch? A lot of people are saying they are in love." I recognize Beetees voice.

"It's not like that. I don't know what it is. He is very protective about her but it's not romantic." Haymitch informs them.

"Are you smiling Finnick? Oh my god you like her don't you?" I recognize Johanna's voice.

Finnick doesn't say anything and I'm straining to hear it. What's the matter with me? Where is this coming from? I can't like Finnick Odair the heart throb of the Capitol. I shake my head. It doesn't matter. I will probably be dead in a few days despite what Haymitch thinks I know the odds are not in my favor.

And with that I go to bed.


	8. Chapter 8 Scores

**Long Chapter! The middle part about the scores is the mostly the same at the book except for some of the conversation between Katniss and Peeta. But the beginning and end are very different. I hope you like it!**

 **Chapter Eight: Scores**

I wake up that morning to someone coming in the room. I look up to see Haymitch sit on the end of my bed.

That's when everything from last night starts coming back to me. The meeting Haymitch was having. Being with Finnick on the roof. I smile at that. Then scold myself.

"What's going on Haymitch?"

"There are things going on that you can't understand."

"Try me" I tell him sitting up straight.

"I can't tell you. It's for your own safety" he adds as I roll my eyes.

"My safety? in a few days I'm being pushed out into an arena where 23 people are going to try and kill me."

He looks like he is trying to decide whether to tell me or not but he shakes his head and I can tell he's resolved not to tell me. "You can't tell anyone what you saw or might have overheard."

"And if I do?" I say defiantly.

"You could get me killed, and if that doesn't mean anything to you you could get Finnick killed."

I swallow hard. _What is going on?_

"You won't say anything?"

I shake my head. I won't say anything. I don't want anything to happen to Finnick or even Haymitch I admit to myself. But the curiosity is eating at me.

"And about Finnick. Stay away from him. He's a good guy but he has his own troubles you don't need to get caught up in."

I look at him asking the obvious question.

He sighs, "Let's just say once you survive the games, and I say survive because nobody wins, they never end."

I nod. Not sure what to think.

* * *

Its the third day of training, they start to call us out of lunch for our private sessions with the Gamemakers.

District by district, first the boy, then the girl tribute. As usual, District 12 is slated to go last. We linger in the dining room, unsure where else to go. No one comes back once they have left. As the room empties, the pressure to appear friendly lightens. By the time they call Rue, we are left alone. We sit in silence for a few moments but I feel like I have to say something.

"Peeta, I..." I begin not sure what to say. I want to tell him thank you, I want to say I'm sorry for telling him to keep his distance last night, I want to ask him about how he knows we are related, I want to say so many things but I can't get them to come out.

"It's okay, Kat. I understand." Peeta says placing a hand on my arm. He looks into my eyes and I see the turmoil that must be in my eyes reflected back at me. Perhaps he does understand.

They summon Peeta and he rises, "Shoot straight, Kat." he gives me a small smile and ruffles my hair before turning.

"Good luck," I call out as he gets to the door.

After about fifteen minutes, they call my name. I smooth my hair, set my shoulders back, and walk into the gymnasium. Instantly, I know I'm in trouble. They've been here too long, the Gamemakers. Sat through twenty-three other demonstrations. Had too much to wine, most of them. Want more than anything to go home.

There's nothing I can do but continue with the plan. I walk to the archery station. Oh, the weapons! I've been itching to get my hands on them for days! Bows made of wood and plastic and metal and materials I can't even name. Arrows with feathers cut in flawless uniform lines.

I choose a bow, string it, and sling the matching quiver of arrows over my shoulder. There's a shooting range, but it's much too limited. Standard bull's-eyes and human silhouettes. I walk to the center of the gymnasium and pick my first target. The dummy used for knife practice. Even as I pull back on the bow I know something is wrong. The string's tighter than the one I use at home. The arrow's more rigid. I miss the dummy by a couple of inches and lose what little attention I had been commanding. For a moment, I'm humiliated, then I head back to the bull's-eye. I shoot again and again until I get the feel of these new weapons.

Back in the center of the gymnasium, I take my initial position and skewer the dummy right through the heart. Then I sever the rope that holds the sandbag for boxing, and the bag splits open as it slams to the ground.

Without pausing, I shoulder-roll forward, come up on one knee, and send an arrow into one of the hanging lights high above the gymnasium floor. A shower of sparks bursts from the fixture.

It's excellent shooting. I turn to the Gamemakers. A few are nodding approval, but the majority of them are fixated on a roast pig that has just arrived at their banquet table.

Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line, they don't even have the decency to pay attention to me. That I'm being upstaged by a dead pig. My heart starts to pound, I can feel my face burning. Without thinking, I pull an arrow from my quiver and send it straight at the Gamemakers' table. I hear shouts of alarm as people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig's mouth and pins it to the wall behind it. Everyone stares at me in disbelief. "Thank you for your consideration," I say. Then I give a slight bow and walk straight toward the exit without being dismissed.

I pass the Avoxes who guard the elevators and I hit the number twelve button with my fist. The doors slide together and I zip upward. I actually make it back to my floor before the tears start running down my cheeks. I can hear the others calling me from the sitting room, but I fly down the hall into my room, bolt the door, and fling myself onto my bed. Then I really begin to sob.

Now I've done it! Now I've ruined everything! If I'd stood even a ghost of chance, it vanished when I sent that arrow flying at the Gamemakers. What will they do to me now? Arrest me? Execute me? Cut my tongue and turn me into an Avox so I can wait on the future tributes of Panem? What was I thinking, shooting at the Gamemakers? Of course, I wasn't, I was shooting at that apple because I was so angry at being ignored. I wasn't trying to kill one of them. If I were, they'd be dead!

Oh, what does it matter? It's not like I was going to win the Games anyway. Who cares what they do to me?

What really scares me is what they might do to my mother and Prim, how my family might suffer now because of my impulsiveness. Will they take their few belongings, or send my mother to prison and Prim to the community home, or kill them? They wouldn't kill them, would they? Why not? What do they care?

I should have stayed and apologized. Or laughed, like it was a big joke. Then maybe I would have found some leniency. But instead I stalked out of the place in the most disrespectful manner possible.

Haymitch and Effie are knocking on my door. I shout for them to go away and eventually they do. It takes at least an hour for me to cry myself out. Then I just lay curled up on the bed, stroking the silken sheets, watching the sun set over the artificial candy Capitol.

At first, I expect guards to come for me. But as time passes, it seems less likely. I calm down. They still need a girl tribute from District 12, don't they? If the Gamemakers want to punish me, they can do it publicly.

Wait until I'm in the arena and sic starving wild animals on me. You can bet they'll make sure I don't have a bow and arrow to defend myself. Before that though, they'll give me a score so low, no one in their right mind would sponsor me. That's what will happen tonight. Since the training isn't open to viewers, the Game-makers announce a score for each player. It gives the audience a starting place for the betting that will continue throughout the Games. The number, which is between one and twelve, one being irredeemably bad and twelve being unattainably high, signifies the promise of the tribute. The mark is not a guarantee of which person will win. It's only an indication of the potential a tribute showed in training. Often, because of the variables in the actual arena, high-scoring tributes go down almost immediately. And a few years ago, the boy who won the Games only received a three. Still, the scores can help or hurt an individual tribute in terms of sponsorship. I had been hoping my shooting skills might get me a six or a seven, even if I'm not particularly powerful. Now I'm sure I'll have the lowest score of the twenty-four. If no one sponsors me, my odds of staying alive decrease to almost zero.

When Effie taps on the door to call me to dinner, I decide I may as well go. The scores will be televised tonight. It's not like I can hide what happened forever. I go to the bathroom and wash my face, but it's still red and splotchy.

Everyone's waiting at the table, even Cinna and Portia. I wish the stylists hadn't shown up because for some reason, I don't like the idea of disappointing them. It's as if I've thrown away all the good work they did on the opening ceremonies without a thought. I avoid looking at anyone as I take tiny spoonfuls of fish soup. The saltiness reminds me of my tears.

The adults begin some chitchat about the weather forecast, and I let my eyes meet Peeta's. He raises his eyebrows. A question. What happened? I just give my head a small shake. Then, as they're serving the main course, I hear Haymitch say, "Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"

Peeta jumps in. "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

That makes me feel a bit better. It's not like Peeta attacked the Gamemakers, but at least he was provoked,too.

"And you, sweetheart?" says Haymitch.

Somehow Haymitch calling me sweetheart this time ticks me off enough that I'm at least able to speak. "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."

Everyone stops eating. "You what?" The horror in Effie's voice confirms my worst suspicions.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just . . . I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" I say defiantly.

"And what did they say?" says Cinna carefully.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," I say.

"Without being dismissed?" gasps Effie.

"I dismissed myself," I said. I remember how I promised Prim that I really would try to win and I feel like a ton of coal has dropped on me.

"Well, that's that," says Haymitch. Then he butters a roll.

"Do you think they'll arrest me?" I ask.

"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," says Haymitch.

"What about my family?" I say. "Will they punish them?"

"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort," says Haymitch. I think he smiles then it quickly fades. "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

"Well, they've already promised to do that to us any way," says Peeta.

"Very true," says Haymitch. And I realize the impossible has happened. They have actually cheered me up.

Haymitch picks up a pork chop with his fingers, which makes Effie frown, and dunks it in his wine. He rips off a hunk of meat and starts to chuckle. "What were their faces like?"

I can feel the edges of my mouth tilting up. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them." An image pops into my mind. "One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."

Haymitch guffaws and we all start laughing except Effie, although even she is suppressing a smile. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." Then her eyes dart around as if she's said something totally outrageous. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to no one in particular.

"I'll get a very bad score," I say.

"Scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy," said Portia.

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," says Peeta. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards. One almost landed on my foot." I grin at him and realize that I'm starving. I cut off a piece of pork, dunk it in mashed potatoes, and start eating. It's okay. My family is safe. And if they are safe, no real harm has been done.

After dinner, we go to sitting room to watch the scores announced on television. First they show a photo of the tribute, then flash their score below it. The Career Tributes naturally get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other players average a five.

Surprisingly, little Rue comes up with a seven. I don't know what she showed the judges, but she's so tiny it must have been impressive.

District 12 comes up last, as usual. Peeta pulls an eight so at least a couple of the Gamemakers must have been watching him. I dig my fingernails into my palms as my face comes up, expecting the worst. Then they're flashing the number eleven on the screen.

Eleven!

Effie Trinket lets out a squeal, and everybody is slapping me on the back and cheering and congratulating me. But it doesn't seem real. "There must be a mistake. How . . . how could that happen?" I ask Haymitch.

"Guess they liked your temper," he says. "They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," says Cinna and gives me a hug. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" I ask.

"Of a sort," he says mischievously.

Peeta and I congratulate each other, another awkward moment. We've both done well, but what does that mean for the other? I escape to my room as quickly as possible and burrow down under the covers. The stress of the day, particularly the crying, has worn me out. I drift off, reprieved, relieved, and with the number eleven still flashing behind my eyelids.

I'm not sure how long I've been asleep but I wake up thinking I hear a knock at the door. I sit up, and this time I definitely hear a slight knock. Getting up I walk to the door and crack it open. To my surprise I'm looking into famous green eyes, I open the door wider and Finnick steps inside smiling at me.

He closes the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9 Visitor

**Chapter Nine: Visitor**

Finnick Odair is in my room!

"Are you allowed to be here?" I ask him.

He shrugs, "Haymitch would probably skewer me if he knew I was here."

"Why are you here?" I ask him. Really though, why would he come to my room?

Finnick gestures to the bed and we both sit down. Finnick sits down right next to me. "To be honest, I don't know why I am here." He shakes his head like he is debating with himself, he sighs and continues, "I can't seem to stop thinking about you."

He holds my gaze and I can't seem to say anything in response. It seems my brain has turned to jelly. Mostly I am confused. Why would Finnick Odair be thinking about me?

When I don't say anything he continues, "You see, there is something about you that keeps drawing me in. I've been fighting it all week. I mean what can I really do about it? You're a tribute. You are going into the arena in a few days time. If things were different.." he trails off and I imagine he was going to say if it weren't likely I was going to die soon, "But here I am anyways. I give up trying to stay away." He seems to be talking to himself, like he is trying to convince himself.

He brings his hand up and cups my cheek, "Do you understand what I am trying to say?" My skin feels tingly from the touch of his hand. It takes me by surprise, I've never felt anything like that before.

I nod. I'm pretty sure I do. Why take the time to get to know me if I am going to die in a few days? But here he is anyways? Why would he want to get to know me? I'm dreaming. That must be it. Finnick isn't really here, I'm just pulling this from my subconscious, but I know I'm not.

"Do you want me to leave?" Finnick asks me, starting to get up.

He must have taken my silence as indifference. "No." I say starting to panic, and he sits back down.

"Then what is it, Katniss?"

Hearing my name on his lips makes my heart race. I shake my head trying to get a hold of myself. He has been here for five minutes and turned me into some crazy, ridiculous, girl.

"I'm just... I'm just not sure what to say." I say finally, "I've never..." I've never talked to a guy I liked, never really liked anyone before, never been in this situation before. But all of those things seem silly to say.

He seems to understand. "Do you like me?" he asks outright. I have no idea where his confidence comes from but I wish I could be more like that.

"Yes, but..." He holds his finger up interrupting me.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Then for right now, the 'buts' don't matter. Please?" he begs me.

 _But they do matter,_ I want to say. But what about the games? If I get to know you too that is just another thing I will be leaving behind. Another person who my dying will affect. But I don't say it. I should tell him to leave, but I'm to selfish to do so. How much could I affect Finnick Odair anyways?

I nod, "Okay."

He looks up at me surprised at first, but then I think he's relieved.

I turn to face him sitting cross legged on the bed and does the same. He scoots closer to me so our knees our touching and takes my hand. The hard part seems to be behind us and I regain some of my composure.

Finding my voice, I say, "So Finnick, tell me something about yourself?"

He laughs, completely breaking the ice, "Well I am from District 4, I won my games 5 years ago when I was 14."

I roll my eyes at him, "Really? That's what you are going to tell me?"

"What?" he says defensively, but he smiles.

"That would be like me telling you, I am from District 12, and I am a tribute for the 74th Hunger Games."

"But I already know that." he says.

I look at him expectantly. "I see, you already know that about me." he says.

I nod, "I think the whole country knows that about you."

He casts his eyes down, "The whole country thinks they know me, but they don't. I wish they didn't even know my name." he admits.

"On camera, you seem to enjoy all the attention." I say, not accusingly but like I'm asking."

He sighs, "Only because I have to. You see, I don't have a choice."

I'm about to ask him what he means, but he shakes his head, "You will know soon enough." he says.

We move on to lighter topics and I find it very easy to talk to him. He tells me about District 4. About how he learned to swim before he could walk and his love for the ocean and water in general. He offers to teach me how to swim and is surprised when I tell him I already know how. I tell him about my father teaching me on the lake out in the woods outside the fence. I tell him about my father teaching me to hunt, and I tell him about Prim and my mother. I even tell him about Gale and providing for my family. I ask him about his family and he tells me about his parents, and his baby sister. His parents are gone now, and when I ask him what happened he can't tell me. Not that he can't just that I can see it hurts to much for him to tell me. I ask him about his sister instead and his eyes light up telling me about her. She is ten, her name is Annie. He has been taking care of her for a long time like I have been taking care of Prim.

We end up laying down on the bed with my head on his chest and his arms around me. I instantly feel comfortable with him, unlike I have felt with anyone else. I feel like I can share anything with him, and I want to. That is something I have never felt before. We talk and laugh for a long time. When we look at the clock I am surprised to see its 6 a.m. Everyone will be waking up soon and I know Finnick has to leave.

Finnick stands up pulling me with him. "I have to go." he says.

I nod, "I know." I don't want him to.

He pulls me against him, my head fitting right against his shoulder. He holds me for a few more minutes and when he starts to pull away I feel like my heart is in my throat. Touching his forehead to mine he says, "Everything is going to be just fine Katniss."

I try to answer but I know if I do I will start to cry. I feel like I might never see him again. He leans down and kisses me on the lips. It's not long but it's filled with the emotion I know we are both feeling. I never want this kiss to end, but it does.

And then he is leaving. As the door closes behind him I realize he has taken a piece of me with him, and I don't quite feel whole now that he's gone.

What have I done? I've just made it that much harder on myself. _Just another reason to fight._ says a voice in my head.

I lay back down on my bed and try to get some sleep. It's not long before I realize sleep is not going to come. Tears start running down my cheeks. I can't help thinking that I've already lost Finnick before I have even begun to have him.

There's a knock on my door. Without my saying anything it opens and Haymitch enters. "Sweetheart, I.." he begins.

I sit up on the bed and hold out my hand, telling him to stop, "I know Haymitch, you warned me, and you are going to warn me again but it's too late."

To my complete surprise Haymitch comes to sit by me and pulls me into his arms. He lets me cry patting my back.

 **I was planning on going into the interviews in this chapter but then it would be really long so I am going to break it up. I hope you liked this chapter, I'm looking forward to writing more like it!**


	10. Chapter 10 Preparations

**A lot from the book but some differences in conversations. I know a lot is like the book but that is how I wanted it. Not a different story just different circumstances. I hope you like it.**

 **Chapter Ten: Preperations**

Haymitch told me to try to get at least an hour of sleep but it won't come. Giving up I get in the shower and get dressed for the day.

I walk into the dining room and to my surprise only Haymitch is there.

"So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"That's right," says Haymitch.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat the same time," I say.

"Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach," says Haymitch.

"What's that?" I ask. I'm not sure what our current approach is. Trying to appear mediocre in front of the other tributes is the last bit of strategy I remember.

Haymitch shrugs. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. But the boy who risked a beating to give me bread, the one who steadied me in the chariot, who covered for me, who insisted Haymitch know my hunting skills he had become my friend, truly my family. I had let my guard down even when I reminded myself time and again not to.

Obviously, the connection we'd foolishly formed has been severed. And high time, too. The Games begin in two days, and trust will only be a weakness. Whatever triggered Peeta's decision I should be nothing but grateful for it. Maybe he's finally accepted the fact that the sooner we openly acknowledge that we have to kill or be killed the better. But I can't help but feeling a little hurt.

"Good," I say. "So what's the schedule?"

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content," says Haymitch. "You start with Effie, Katniss."

I can't imagine what Effie will have to teach me that could take four hours, but she's got me working down to the last minute. We go to my rooms and she puts me in a full-length gown and high-heeled shoes, not the ones I'll be wearing for the actual interview, and instructs me on walking. The shoes are the worst part. I've never worn high heels and can't get used to essentially wobbling around on the balls of my feet. But Effie runs around in them full-time, and I'm determined that if she can do it, so can I. The dress poses another problem. It keeps tangling around my shoes so, of course, I hitch it up, and then Effie swoops down on me like a hawk, smacking my hands and yelling, "Not above the ankle!" When I finally conquer walking, there's still sitting, posture - apparently I have a tendency to duck my head - eye contact, hand gestures, and smiling. Smiling is mostly about smiling more. Effie makes me say a hundred banal phrases starting with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. By lunch, the muscles in my cheeks are twitching from overuse. "Well, that's the best I can do," Effie says with a sigh. "Just remember, Katniss, you want the audience to like you."

"And you don't think they will?" I ask.

"Not if you glare at them the entire time. Why don't you save that for the arena? Instead, think of yourself among friends," says Effie.

"They're betting on how long I'll live!" I burst out. "They're not my friends!"

"Well, try and pretend!" snaps Effie. Then she composes herself and beams at me. "See, like this. I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me."

"Yes, it feels very convincing," I say. "I'm going to eat."

I kick off my heels and stomp down to the dining room, hiking my skirt up to my thighs.

Peeta and Haymitch seem in pretty good moods, so I'm thinking the content session should be an improvement over the morning. I couldn't be more wrong. After lunch, Haymitch takes me into the sitting room, directs me to the couch, and then just frowns at me for a while.

"What?" I finally ask.

"I'm trying to figure out what to do with you," he says. "How we're going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like a star. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. You've got the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. Theimpression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors," says Haymitch.

Having watched the tribute interviews all my life, I know there's truth to what he's saying. If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

"What's Peeta's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?" I say.

"Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally," says Haymitch. "Whereas when you open your mouth, you come across more as sullen and hostile."

"I do not!" I say.

"Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before or since," says Haymitch.

"And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery," I counter.

"But you don't have to please me. I'm not going to sponsor you. So pretend I'm the audience," says Haymitch. "Delight me."

"Fine!" I snarl. Haymitch takes the role of the interviewer and I try to answer his questions in a winning fashion.

But I can't. I'm too angry with Haymitch for what he said and that I even have to answer the questions. All I can think is how unjust the whole thing is, the Hunger Games. Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate? The longer the interview goes on, the more my fury seems to rise to the surface,until I'm literally spitting out answers at him.

Suddenly, angry tears are rolling down my cheeks and I'm pacing in front of Haymitch.

He lets me pace for a few minutes.

"All right, enough," he says.

I stop and sit back down, and slam my fist into the arm of the chair, "I hate them!" I say to him.

"I know. I do too sweetheart." That is not what I expected him to say. It takes me by surprise and calms me down somehow. "But for right now there is nothing we can do about it."

 _For right now?_ What does he mean 'for right now'? I don't even bother asking because I know he won't tell me.

"We've got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss."

"But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!" I say.

"Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch.

"I'm not good at lying," I say.

"Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," says Haymitch.

Ouch. That hurts. Even Haymitch must know he's been too harsh because his voice softens. "Here's an idea. Try acting humble."

"Humble," I echo.

"That you can't believe a little girl from District Twelve has done this well. The whole thing's been more than you ever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna's clothes. How nice the people are. How the city amazes you. If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Just keep turning it back around, all right. Gush."

The next hours are agonizing. At once, it's clear I cannot gush. We try me playing cocky, but I just don't have the arrogance. Apparently, I'm too "vulnerable" for ferocity. I'm not witty. Funny. Sexy. Or mysterious.

By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them."

"I'm not the only one who despises them." I slur at him. Referring to his secret meeting.

"I know." he sighs, "but that's not gonna help you right now."

There's that _right now,_ again.

I have dinner that night in my room, ordering an outrageous number of delicacies, eating myself sick, and then taking out my anger at Haymitch, at the Hunger Games, at every living being in the Capitol by smashing dishes around my room. When the girl with the red hair comes in to turn down my bed, her eyes widen at the mess. "Just leave it!" I yell at her. "Just leave it alone!"

Eventually I fall asleep thinking about Finnick. What is he doing right now? Will he sneak in to my room tonight?

In the morning my prep team is hanging over me. My lessons are over. This day belongs to Cinna. He's my last hope. Maybe he can make me look so wonderful no one will care what comes out of my mouth.

The prep team spends hours readying my body. Then Cinna comes in, "close your eyes."

I do. I feel them slip smooth fabric over me. It must be forty pounds. I step into my shoes blindly. They adjust the. There is silence.

"Can I open my eyes?" I ask.

"Yes. Open them." Cinna says.

The creature standing before me has come from another world. My dress us magnificent. I am radiant.

"Oh Cinna, thank you" I whisper.

Cinna dismisses the prep team and has me move around in the dress and shoes which are more manageable than the outfit Effie had me practice in.

"So , all ready for the interview then?" asks Cinna. I can tell he had been talking to Haymitch.

"I'm awful. Haymitch called me a dead slug. No matter what we tried, I couldn't do it. I just can't be one of those people he wants me to be." I say.

Cinna thinks about this a moment. "Why don't you just be yourself?"

"Myself? That's no good, either. Haymitch says I'm sullen and hostile," I say.

"Well, you are . . . around Haymitch," says Cinna with a grin. "I don't find you so. The prep team adores you. A certain young man I spoke with this morning thinks your very special. You won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizens of the Capitol, well, they can't stop talking about you. No one can help but admire your spirit."

My spirit. This is a new thought. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I'm a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It's not as if I'm never friendly. Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but I do care for some people. "Young man?" I question.

"Yes, he found me and convinced me to give you this." he walks to a table and pulls out a flower and a small envelope. I recognize the flower from the roof.

Cinna hands me the card and secures the flower in my hair.

Cinna takes my icy hand that is empty in his warm ones. "Suppose, when you answer the questions, you think you're addressing a friend back home. Who would your best friend be?" asks Cinna.

"Gale," I say instantly. "Only it doesn't make sense, Cinna. I would never be telling Gale those things about me. He already knows them."

"What about me? Or Finnick?" asks Cinna.

Of all the people I've met since I left home, Cinna is by far my favorite. I liked him right off and he hasn't disappointed me yet. And Finnick well... "I think so, but -"

"I'll be sitting on the main platform with the other stylists. You'll be able to look right at me. Finnick will be sitting in front with the other mentors. When you're asked a question, find me or him and answer it as honestly as possible," says Cinna.

"Even if what I think is horrible?" I ask. Because it might be, really.

"Especially if what you think is horrible," says Cinna. "You'll try it?"

I nod. It's a plan. Or at least a straw to grasp at.

Cinna gives me a moment to read the card. It's pale white and hand written.

 _Good luck with your interview. I'm sure you'll capture the audience, you've already captured me._

 _\- Finnick_

I can't help but smile. I take a deep breath and somehow I think I can do this.


	11. Chapter 11 Interviews

**Chapter Ten: Interviews**

Too soon it's time to go. The interviews take place on a stage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once I leave my room, it will be only minutes until I'm in front of the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem.

"Remember, they already love you," Cinna says gently. "Just be yourself." We meet up with the rest of the District 12 crowd at the elevator. Portia and her gang have been hard at work. Peeta looks striking in a black suit with flame accents. While we look well together, it's a relief not to be dressed identically. Haymitch and Effie are all fancied up for the occasion. I avoid Haymitch, but accept Effie's compliments. Effie can be tiresome and clueless, but she's not destructive like Haymitch.

When the elevator opens, the other tributes are being lined up to take the stage. All twenty-four of us sit in a big arc throughout the interviews. I'll be last, or second to last since the girl tribute precedes the boy from each district. How I wish I could be first and get the whole thing out of the way! Now I'll have to listen to how witty, funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else is before I go up. Plus, the audience will start to get bored, just as the Gamemakers did. And I can't exactly shoot an arrow into the crowd to get their attention.

The mentors start to walk out to take their seats and I manage to catch Finnick's eye. He winks at me and smiles before walking out. I feel my face flush and Peeta gives me and odd questioning look.

Right before we parade onto the stage, Haymitch comes up behind Peeta and me and growls, "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it."

What? I thought we abandoned that when Peeta asked for separate coaching. But I guess that was a private, not a public thing. Anyway, there's not much chance for interaction now, as we walk single-file to our seats and take our places.

Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for more than forty years, bounces onto the stage. It's a little scary because his appearance has been virtually unchanged during all that time. In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early.

This year, Caesar's hair is powder blue and his eyelids and lips are coated in the same hue. He looks freakish but less frightening than he did last year when his color was crimson and he seemed to be bleeding. Caesar tells a few jokes to warm up the audience but then gets down to business.

The girl tribute from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stage to join Caesar for her interview.

Each interview only lasts three minutes. Then a buzzer goes off and the next tribute is up. I'll say this for Caesar, he really does his best to make the tributes shine. He's friendly, tries to set the nervous ones at ease, laughs at lame jokes, and can turn a weak response into a memorable one by the way he reacts.

I sit like a lady, the way Effie showed me, as the districts slip by. 2, 3, 4. I get more and more nervous. Then I find Finnick staring at me from the audience. I can tell he sees the flower in my hair and he winks at me. It gives me more tingles in my stomach than I had already.

Everyone seems to be playing up some angle. The monstrous boy from District 2 is a ruthless killing machine. The fox-faced girl from District 5 sly and elusive. I spotted Cinna as soon as he took his place, but even his presence cannot relax me. 8, 9, 10. The crippled boy from 10 is very quiet. My palms are sweating like crazy, but the jeweled dress isn't absorbent and they skid right of if I try to dry them. 11.

Rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete with wings, flutters her way to Caesar. A hush falls over the crowd at the sight of this magical wisp of a tribute. Caesar's very sweet with her, complimenting her seven in training, an excellent score for one so small. When he asks her what her greatest strength in the arena will be, she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she says in a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't in a million years," says Caesar encouragingly.

The boy tribute from District 11, Thresh, has the same dark skin as Rue, but the resemblance stops there. He's one of the giants, probably six and a half feet tall and built like an ox, but I noticed he rejected the invitations from the Career Tributes to join their crowd. Instead he's been very solitary, speaking to no one, showing little interest in training. Even so, he scored a ten and it's not hard to imagine he impressed the Gamemakers. He ignores Caesar's attempts at banter and answers with a yes or no or just remains silent.

If only I was his size, I could get away with sullen and hostile and it would be just fine! I bet half the sponsors are at least considering him. If I had any money, I'd bet on him myself.

I can feel Finnick's eyes on me even though I'm not looking at him. I know if I do all I will be able to think about is how I hate the Capitol. Instead I find Cinna.

And then they're calling Katniss Everdeen, and I feel myself, as if in a dream, standing and making my way center stage. I shake Caesar's outstretched hand, and he has the good grace not to immediately wipe his off on his suit.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" asks Caesar.

What? What did he say? It's as if the words make no sense.

My mouth has gone as dry as sawdust. I desperately find Cinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine the words coming from his lips. "What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" I rack my brain for something that made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest.

"The lamb stew," I get out.

Caesar laughs, and vaguely I realize some of the audience has joined in.

"The one with the dried plums?" asks Caesar. I nod. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." He turns sideways to the audience in horror, hand on his stomach. "It doesn't show, does it?" They shout reassurances to him and applaud. This is what I mean about Caesar. He tries to help you out.

"Now, Katniss," he says confidentially, "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

Cinna raises one eyebrow at me. Be honest. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I ask.

Big laugh. A real one from the audience. "Yes. Start then," says Caesar.

Cinna, my friend, I should tell him anyway. "I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either." I lift up my skirt to spread it out. "I mean, look at it!"

As the audience oohs and ahs, I see Cinna make the tiniest circular motion with his finger. But I know what he's saying. Twirl for me.

I spin in a circle once and the reaction is immediate.

"Oh, do that again!" says Caesar, and so I lift up my arms and spin around and around letting the skirt fly out, letting the dress engulf me in flames. The audience breaks into cheers. When I stop, I clutch Caesar's arm.

"Don't stop!" he says.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" I'm also giggling, which I think I've done maybe never in my lifetime. But the nerves and the spinning have gotten to me.

Caesar wraps a protective arm around me. "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps."

Everyone's hooting as the cameras find Haymitch, who is by now famous for his head dive at the reaping, and he waves them away good-naturedly and points back to me.

"It's all right," Caesar reassures the crowd. "She's safe with me. So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

I glance at the Gamemakers on the balcony and bite my lip. "Um . . . all I can say, is I think it was a first."

The cameras are right on the Gamemakers, who are chuckling and nodding.

"You're killing us," says Caesar as if in actual pain. "Details. Details."

I address the balcony. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

The Gamemaker who fell in the punch bowl shouts out, "She's not!"

"Thank you," I say. "Sorry. My lips are sealed."

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," says Caesar. His mood is quieter now. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

No. No, not all of you. But maybe Cinna. I don't think I'm imagining the sadness on his face. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything"

You could hear a pin drop in the City Circle now.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks.

Be honest. Be honest. I swallow hard. "She asked me to try really hard to win." The audience is frozen, hanging on my every word.

"And what did you say?" prompts Caesar gently.

But instead of warmth, I feel an icy rigidity take over my body. My muscles tense as they do before a kill. When I speak, my voice seems to have dropped an octave. "I swore I would."

"I bet you did," says Caesar, giving me a squeeze. The buzzer goes off. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve."

The applause continues long after I'm seated. I look to Cinna for reassurance. He gives me a subtle thumbs-up. I find Finnick Few rows behind smiling.

I'm still in a daze for the first part of Peeta's interview. He has the audience from the get-go, though; I can hear them laughing, shouting out. He plays up the baker's son thing, comparing the tributes to the breads from their districts. Then has a funny anecdote about the perils of the Capitol showers. "Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" he asks Caesar, and then there's a whole run where they take turns sniffing each other that brings down the house. I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him about family back home.

Peeta hesitates, then nods.

"Why do you seem so sad Peeta?"says Caesar.

Peeta sighs. "Well the day of the reaping I found out I have a little sister and I never got the chance to get to know her and protect her."

The audience saddens.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home and nobody will dare look at your little sister the wrong way." says Caesar encouragingly.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning and going home won't help in my case," says Peeta.

"Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified.

Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because . . . because . . . she came here with me."

For a moment, the cameras hold on Peeta's downcast eyes as what he says sinks in. Then I can see my face, mouth half open in a mix of surprise and protest, magnified on every screen as I realize, Me! He means me! I press my lips together and stare at the floor, hoping this will conceal the emotions starting to boil up inside of me.

How dare he connect me to him publicly. And air our families laundry all over the country. Oh my god what is my mother saying right now. Then I realize he said little sister. What?

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," says Caesar, and there's a real edge of pain in his voice. The crowd is murmuring in agreement, "you didn't know she was your sister until the reaping? How did that come about?"

"When I was growing up I remember my father always favoring to her. Giving her a cookie when she came in. Taking a special interest in her when she was around. But I never dreamed... My mother hated her and her mother. It all makes sense now though. My father came to say good bye to me and he was crying. He told me he loved me and that even if one of us came back he would still be losing one of his kids. He loved Katniss's mother but his family forced him to marry my mom. But he still saw Katniss's mom until she had gotten married to who Katniss believed to be her father."

"Well that is a sad story. Katniss didn't know?" He asks looking at me.

"Not the whole story, not until now. She thought we were cousins. I remember when we were little like 7 or 6 and her father came in to the bakery trying to get my mother to talk to her sister, his wife. Saying it had been 7 years didn't she want to meet her nieces. But my mother said no she never wanted to see her again. Katniss and I were both there."

"Wow, what a heart breaking story." Caesar clenches his heart with his hand. "At least you got to spend a little time getting to know her, that's better than not at all."

Peeta shakes his head, "I've gotten to know her and love her, but if I make it out of the arena she won't. I can't live knowing me living had to do with my sisters death. She's my little sister, I'm supposed to protect her."

There are tears in the audiences eyes.

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asks the audience. The crowd screams assent. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Peeta has absolutely wiped the rest of us off the map with his tale of our families. When the audience finally settles down, he chokes out a quiet "Thank you" and returns to his seat. We stand for the anthem. I have to raise my head out of the required respect and cannot avoid seeing that every screen is now dominated by a shot of Peeta and me, separated by a few feet that in the viewers' heads can never be breached. Poor tragic us.

But I am so angry I can barely hold it in. How dare he choose how they see me.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators. I make sure to veer into a car that does not contain Peeta.


	12. Chapter 12 Over Reaction

**Chapter Twelve: Over Reaction**

I am furious. How dare he tell all of Panem about our families. My mother must be embarrassed. So must his father. I can't help but think he just put a huge target on our backs. Through all the anger I can't help but think is it true?

I make it up to the 12th floor just before Peeta and anyone else. As soon as I see him I slam my palms into his chest pushing him into the wall knocking over an urn.

"What was that for?" he says, aghast.

"You had no right! No right to say all those things about our families." There are tears running down my face.

The elevators open again and Effie, Haymitch Cinna, and Portia walk out.

"What's going on? Did you fall?" Effie says with a hint of hysteria.

"After she shoved me," says Peeta.

"Shoved him?" says Haymitch turning to me.

"This was your idea wasn't it? Turning me and our families into some kind of fools in front of the entire country?"

"It was my idea. Haymitch just helped me with it." Says Peeta.

I am full out crying now.

"He helped you. Everyone out there is thinking about the estranged brother and sister. They all want to help that brother protect his little sister."

"Is it true? Are you really my brother?" I ask Peeta.

He looks at me with tears in his eyes and nods, "Yes. Yes little sister."

I quickly hug him crying and then run to my room and lock the door.

My mind is rushing. My father is not my father. The man who died in that accident, the man I loved with my whole life is not my father. The man who taught me everything I know was not my father. I try to breathe evenly but I can't. Peeta's father is my father too. I always liked Peeta's father he was always nice to me. But then I'm furious at him for not helping us when my father died. I remember all the times he watched me and checked on me. All the times he snuck me and Prim cookies when his wife wasn't looking.

What is Prim thinking right now? Prim is still my sister. That will never change. We have the same mother regardless. Prim is not Peeta's sister. Prim has my Dad's coloring, his dark hair and grey eyes. And that is why I don't. That's why I look like Peeta, because I am his sister.

I know deep in my heart that Peeta is telling the truth.

I can't reconcile that the man I believed to be my father wasn't.

"Katniss let me in please" says Haymitch. I don't respond.

An hour goes by and everyone tries to get me to open the door for them but I can't. I won't. Another hour goes by and I hear another knock. "Go away Haymitch" I say.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not Haymitch then." says a voice that makes my heart beat faster.

I wipe my eyes and pull open the door. Finnick is standing there with a plate of food. I let him come in and I quickly close the door behind me.

"How did you..."

"Haymitch." He interrupts.

I nod.

"Where's that fire I've come to love?" he opens his arms to me.

I cross the room into him and he holds me. I start crying and he just holds me rubbing my back.

"So it's true then?" He asks, "I didn't know if it was for the show or real."

"It's true. I didn't know. I mean I knew we were related but... It all makes sense now."

He keeps holding me and I feel safe. For some reason I trust this beautiful green eyed boy.

Finnick brings us over to the bed and sits with his back against the head board, then he settles me on top of him. "Talk to me Katniss, please." he pleads with me. I can tell he is worried about me.

"My father..." I start, taking a deep breath, "My father, was not my father. The man I loved and idolized wasn't my father. How do I accept that?"

"Don't you see Katniss, that's where your wrong?" I look at him questionably. "He was your father."

"But.."

He shakes his head. "A father, a family for that matter, isn't just made by blood connection. He raised you, he loved you that's what makes a father."

I know Finnick's right. He was my father, I can't take that away from him.

I sit in Finnick's embrace for awhile. So much is going through my mind, but being in Finnick's arms comforts me.

"How do you think this is going to affect the games?" I ask him eventually.

I can see he thinks it over for a minute, "Peeta made you someone to protect. All of Panem is going to want to protect you now."

I sigh, "I'm only a year younger than him. You know I can see now the whole time since the reaping he's been trying to protect me."

Finnick nods, "I think everyone noticed, the way he's been treating you, it fit's that you are his sister. It's how I would act towards Annie."

"It's how I would act towards Prim." I agree.

"I was so mad at him..."

"I don't think he will hold it against you."

My stomach growls and Finnick and I both laugh. We get up to go eat with the others. Before we get to the door I ask him, "Do you have to leave?"

He shakes his head, "No, I'll stay."

I smile and I am taken by surprise when he kisses me. I kiss him back and the kiss deepens. I feel his arms around my waist pulling me closer and without even realizing what I am going I'm pulling him to me just as much. After a few minutes we break to catch our breath. Finnick rests his head against mine. Breathlessly he says, "Katniss, you have no idea what you do to me." He gives me a smile that melts my heart.

When I come out of the room everyone lets out a relieved breath. Effie ushers me to the table to eat and everyone sits down. Peeta is to my left and Finnick to my right.

I look at Peeta, "I'm sorry I shoved you and yelled at you."

Peeta smiles, "Doesn't matter," he ruffles my hair and it makes me feel like a little sister, "Even if it is technically illegal." he teases.

Everyone else has already eaten except me. I sit with my plate of food and eventually Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia excuse themselves. I think they can tell Peeta and I need to talk. Finnick starts to get up but I pull him back down, and he can see the panic in my eyes.

Finnick tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, "Honey, you need to talk to your brother."

"I know, but I don't want you to leave yet."

"I won't, I'll go wait for you in your bed."

"You'll wait where?" Peeta asks with his eye brows raised and a stern look in his eyes.

"I'll wait for you on the roof," Finnick amends, and gives me a smirk.

Finnick kisses me quickly and disappears down the hallway.

Peeta glares at him until he is out of sight. "What was that about?" I ask him

Peeta shrugs, "I wasn't lying when I said I planned on protecting you, Kat. I have 16 years to make up for."

"I'm only a year younger than you." I remind him, "And you don't have to protect me from Finnick."

"You're still my little sister, and Finnick is exactly the kind of thing I need to protect you from."

I roll my eyes.

"Relax Kat, I'm not going to do anything to him, just keep him on his toes."

I sigh, there are more important things to talk about anyways.

"I wish I had known before." I tell him.

"Me too."

"Why now?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did your Dad, _our_ Dad tell you now when..." I can't finish the _now when we are either both or one of us going to die._

"I don't know. I think he just wanted us both to know before..." _we die_ I finish in my head.

We both sit in thought for a little bit.

"Well I guess you should get some sleep," Peeta tells me.

"I don't think I could turn off my mind." I say standing up.

"Thinking about your family?" he asks.

"Yes and No," I admit a bit guiltily. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course."

Peeta hugs me tight and we start walking down the hall together. He puts his hand on the door knob and I see his hands bandaged up, "I really am sorry about your

hands."

"It doesn't matter, Kat," he says. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."

"That's no way to be thinking," I say.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and . . ." He hesitates.

"And what?" I say.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" he asks.

I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself?

"I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."

I bite my lip feeling inferior. While I've been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity of self. "Doyou mean you won't kill anyone?" I ask.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," says Peeta.

"But you're not," I say. "None of us are. That's how the Games work." My hatred for the Capitol only burns deeper as I say it.

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," he insists. "Don't you see?"

"A little. Only . . . no offense, but who cares, Peeta?" I say.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" he asks angrily. He's locked those matching blue eyes on mine now, demanding an answer.

I take a step back. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive."

Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. "Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."

It's like a slap in the face. His use of Haymitch's patronizing endearment. "Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve."

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do. In fact I want you to make it back," says Peeta. "Give my mother and our father and brothers my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Count on it," I say.

Then I turn and head for the roof. I spend the next few hours sitting with Finnick. I'm sitting between his legs with his chest against my back. My head is against his shoulder and our cheeks our touching. Both is arms are wrapped around me. I know there is no hope of sleep so I enjoy my time in Finnick's arms. I try not to think about this being the last time I ever see him.

I can't get the argument with Peeta out of my mind. The last words I may have ever said to him were in anger. I realize why I was so angry now. He doesn't plan on making it back home and I can't stand the thought of leaving my brother to die in the arena.


	13. Chapter 13 Let the Games Begin

**Again a lot from the book, except a little bit about Peeta and the beginning with Finnick. What is Peeta up to? and Katniss's thoughts. I'm trying to make it as realistic and like the story as possible just with a few changes.**

 **Chapter Thirteen: Let the Games Begin**

In the morning when Cinna comes to get me I am asleep with Finnick in my bed. I don't remember coming to bed, Finnick must have carried me from the roof. Finnick wakes when I get up.

He looks at me with tears in his eyes, "Promise me Katniss, promise me you will do everything you can to come back to me." his eyes are pleading with me.

"I promise." I swallow hard. That's two promises I don't know if I will be able to keep. The one to Prim and now this one to Finnick.

Finnick kisses me hard, quickly since I have to go.

It hurts to walk away from him but I have to follow Cinna. We go up to the roof and a hovercraft picks us up. Inside the hovercraft a woman with a white coat inserts something in my arm.

"This is just your tracker, Katniss. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says.

Now the Gamemakers will always be able to trace my whereabouts in the arena. Wouldn't want to lose a tribute.

We eat breakfast on the way. When we arrive we are ushered into an underground room below the arena. In the Capitol, they call it the Launch Room. In the districts, it's referred to as the Stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter.

Everything is brand-new, I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. The arenas are historic sites, preserved after the Games. Popular destinations for Capitol residents to visit, to vacation. Go for a month, rewatch the Games, tour the catacombs, visit the sites where the deaths took place. You can even take part in reenactments. They say the food is excellent.

I struggle to keep my breakfast down as I shower and clean my teeth. Cinna does my hair in my simple trademark braid down my back. Then the clothes arrive, the same for every tribute. Cinna has had no say in my outfit, does not even know what will be in the package, but he helps me dress in the undergarments, simple tawny pants, light green blouse, sturdy brown belt, and thin, hooded black jacket that falls to my thighs. "The material in the jacket's designed to reflect body heat. Expect some cool nights," he says. The boots, worn over skintight socks, are better than I could have hoped for. Soft leather not unlike my ones at home. These have a narrow flexible rubber sole with treads though. Good for running.

I think I'm finished when Cinna pulls the gold mockingjay pin from his pocket. I had completely forgotten about it.

"Where did you get that?" I ask.

"Off the green outfit you wore on the train," he says. I remember now taking it off my mother's dress, pinning it to the shirt. "It's your district token, right?" I nod and he fastens it on my shirt. "It barely cleared the review board. Some thought the pin could be used as a weapon, giving you an unfair advantage. But eventually, they let it through," says Cinna. "They eliminated a ring from that District One girl, though. If you twisted the gemstone, a spike popped out. Poisoned one. She claimed she had no knowledge the ring transformed and there was no way to prove she did. But she lost her token. There, you're all set. Move around. Make sure everything feels comfortable."

I walk, run in a circle, swing my arms about. "Yes, it's fine. Fits perfectly."

"Then there's nothing to do but wait for the call," says Cinna. "Unless you think you could eat any more?"

I turn down food but accept a glass of water that I take tiny sips of as we wait on a couch.

Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what is to come. I could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. Not even. My fingers obsessively trace the hard little lump on my forearm where the woman injected the tracking device. I press on it, even though it hurts, I press on it so hard a small bruise begins to form.

"Do you want to talk, Katniss?" Cinna asks.

I shake my head but after a moment hold out my hand to him. Cinna encloses it in both of his. And this is how we sit until a pleasant female voice announces it's time to prepare for launch. Still clenching one of Cinna's hands, I walk over and stand on the circular metal plate. "Remember what Haymitch said. Run, find water. The rest will follow," he says. I nod. "And remember this. I'm not allowed to bet,but if I could, my money would be on you."

"Truly?" I whisper.

"Truly," says Cinna. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. "Good luck, girl on fire." And then a glass cylinder is lowering around me, breaking our handhold, cutting him off from me. He taps his fingers under his chin. Head high.

Then I hear the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, as his voice booms all around me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Sixty seconds. That's how long we're required to stand on our metal circles before the sound of a gong releases us. Step off before the minute is up, and land mines blow your legs off. Sixty seconds to take in the ring of tributes all equidistant from the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail, the mouth of which is at least twenty feet high, spilling over with the things that will give us life here in the arena. Food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, garments, fire starters. Strewn around the Cornucopia are other supplies, their value decreasing the farther they are from the horn. For instance, only a few steps from my feet lays a three-foot square of plastic. Certainly it could be of some use in a downpour. But there in the mouth, I can see a tent pack that would protect from almost any sort of weather. If I had the guts to go in and fight for it against the other twenty-three tributes.

Which I have been instructed not to do.

We're on a flat, open stretch of ground. A plain of hard-packed dirt. Behind the tributes across from me, I can see nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even cliff. To my right lies a lake. To my left and back, spars piney woods. This is where Haymitch would want me to go. Immediately. I hear his instructions in my head. "Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water."

But it's tempting, so tempting, when I see the bounty waiting there before me. And I know that if I don't get it, someone else will. That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. Something catches my eye. There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting to be engaged. That's mine, I think. It's meant for me.

I'm fast. I can sprint faster than any of the girls in our school although a couple can beat me in distance races. But this forty-yard length, this is what I am built for. I know I can get it, I know I can reach it first, but then the question is how quickly can I get out of there? By the time I've scrambled up the packs and grabbed the weapons, others will have reached the horn, and one or two I might be able to pick off, but say there's a dozen, at that close range, they could take me down with the spears and the clubs. Or their own powerful fists.

Still, I won't be the only target. I'm betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored an eleven in training, to take out their more fierce adversaries.

Haymitch has never seen me run. Maybe if he had he'd tell me to go for it. Get the weapon. Since that's the very weapon that might be my salvation. And I only see one bow in that whole pile. I know the minute must be almost up and will have to decide what my strategy will be and I find myself positioning my feet to run, not away into the stir rounding forests but toward the pile, toward the bow.

When suddenly I notice Peeta, he's about five tributes to my right, quite a fair distance, still I can tell he's looking at me and I think he might be shaking his head. But the sun's in my eyes, and while I'm puzzling over it the gong rings out.

And I've missed it! I've missed my chance! Because those extra couple of seconds I've lost by not being ready are enough to change my mind about going in. My feet shuffle for a moment, confused at the direction my brain wants to take and then I lunge forward, scoop up the sheet of plastic and a loaf of bread. The pickings are so small and I'm so angry with Peeta for distracting me that I sprint in twenty yards to retrieve a bright orange backpack that could hold anything because I can't stand leaving with virtually nothing.

A boy, I think from District 9, reaches the pack at the same time I do and for a brief time we grapple for it and then he coughs, splattering my face with blood. Then the boy slips to the ground. That's when I see the knife in his back. Already other tributes have reached the Cornucopia and are spreading out to attack.

The girl from District 2, ten yards away, running toward me, one hand clutching a half-dozen knives. She never misses. And I'm her next target. All the general fear I've been feeling condenses into at immediate fear of this girl, this predator who might kill me in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through me and I sling the pack over one shoulder and run full-speed for the woods. I can hear the blade whistling toward me and reflexively hike the pack up to protect my head. The blade lodges in the pack. Both straps on my shoulders now, I make for the trees. Somehow I know the girl will not pursue me. That she'll be drawn back into the Cornucopia before all the good stuff is gone. A grin crosses my face. Thanks for the knife, I think.

I continue running until the woods have hidden me from the other tributes then slow into a steady jog that I think I can maintain for a while. For the next few hours, I alternate between jogging and walking, putting as much distance as I can between myself and my competitors. I lost my bread during the struggle with the boy from District 9 but managed to stuff my plastic in my sleeve so as I walk I fold it neatly and tuck it into a pocket. I also free the knife - it's a fine one with a long sharp blade, serrated near the handle, which will make it handy for sawing through things - and slide it into my belt. I don't dare stop to examine the contents of the pack yet. I just keep moving, pausing only to check for pursuers.

I can go a long time. I know that from my days in the woods. But I will need water. That was Haymitch's second instruction, and since I sort of botched the first, I keep a sharp eye out for any sign of it.

It's late afternoon when I begin to hear the cannons. Each shot represents a dead tribute. The fighting must have finally stopped at the Cornucopia. They never collect the bloodbath bodies until the killers have dispersed. On the opening day, they don't even fire the cannons until the initial fighting's over because it's too hard to keep track of the fatalities. I allow myself to pause, panting, as I count the shots. Eleven dead in all. Thirteen left to play.

That's when I panic. What about Peeta? Is he safe still? I won't know for a few hours, until they play the faces of the dead in the sky. Maybe I should have found him before I took off, but then I remember the conversation we had last night, it was the right thing to leave him. One or both of us has to die and I don't want to be there to see it. But if I'm there I could be able to prevent it. I argue on with myself for a while going back and forth. It could be too late. I'm overwhelmed by the thought that Peeta may be already lost. I try hard to remember if I saw him once the action started. But the last image I can conjure up is Peeta shaking his head as the gong rang out. Maybe it's better, if he's gone already. He had no confidence he could win. And I will not end up with the unpleasant task of killing him. Maybe it's better if he's out of this for good. The logic in my head makes me scream at myself. I couldn't kill him. I can't kill him. I won't kill him.

I slump down next to my pack, exhausted. I try to clear my head. I need to go through it anyway before night falls. See what I have to work with. This orange will practically glow in the dark. I make a mental note to camouflage it first thing tomorrow. I carefully lay out the provisions. One thin black sleeping bag thatreflects body heat. A pack of crackers. A pack of dried beef strips. A bottle of iodine. A box of wooden matches. A small coil of wire. A pair of sunglasses. And a half-gallon plastic bottle with a cap for carrying water that's bone dry. I need water.

I make camp up in a tree so it will be harder for other tributes to find me. I find a sturdy branch and lay out. I remove my belt and use it to fasten myself into the tree so I won't fall out when I fall asleep.

Through the branches I can see the seal of the Capitol. The anthem fades out and the sky goes dark for a moment. I take a deep breath as the face of the eleven dead tributes begin and tick them off one by one on my fingers. The first to appear is the girl from District 3. That means that the Career Tributes from 1 and 2 have all survived. No surprise there. Then the boy from 4. I wonder how Finnick feels about that? Is he sad for his tribute? I didn't expect that one, usually all the Careers make it through the first day. The boy from District 5 . . . I guess the fox-faced girl made it. Both tributes from 6 and 7. The boy from 8. Both from 9. Yes, there's the boy who I fought for the backpack. I've run through my fingers, only one more dead tribute to go. Is it Peeta? No, there's the girl from District 10. That's it.

I'm relieved Peeta's alive. Haymitch was right, he did help me by announcing he is my brother outside of the arena. It should help me get sponsors. But inside the arena, its going to put a target on my back, that and my training score.

Snap! The sound of a breaking branch wakes me. Someone is near me. I look in that direction and see nothing but blackness. Then I see a spark and a small fire begins to bloom. A pair of hands warms over flames, but I can't make out more than that.

I have to bite my lip not to scream every foul name I know at the fire starter. What are they thinking? A fire just at nightfall would have been one thing. Those who battled at the Cornucopia, with their superior strength and surplus of supplies, they couldn't possibly have been near enough to spot the flames then. But now, when they've probably been combing the woods for hours looking for victims. You might as well be waving a flag and shouting, "Come and get me!" And here I am a stone's throw from the biggest idiot in the Games. Strapped in a tree.

I lay smoldering in my bag for the next couple of hours really thinking that if I can get out of this tree, I won't have the least problem taking out my new neighbor. My instinct has been to flee, not fight. But obviously this person's a hazard. Stupid people are dangerous. And this one probably doesn't have much in the way of weapons while I've got this excellent knife.

Instead I just lay in the tree thinking. I wonder where Peeta is. I wonder what Finnick is doing. I wonder if my mom and Prim are watching right now. I wonder if Haymitch got any sponsors. I wonder if we will get discovered because of their stupid fire.

The sun starts to rise just barely and I start to think the stupid fire starter might have gone unnoticed. Then I hear it. Several pairs of feet breaking into a run. The fire starter must have dozed off. They're on her before she can escape. I know it's a girl now, I can tell by the pleading, the agonized scream that follows. Then there's laughter and congratulations from several voices. Someone cries out, "Twelve down and eleven to go!" which gets a round of appreciative they're fighting in a pack. I'm not really surprised. It will have to be the Career Tributes from 1, 2, and 4. A total of 5.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." I'm almost certain that's the brutish boy from District 2.

There are murmurs of assent and then, to my horror, I hear the pack heading toward me. They do not know I'm here. How could they? And I'm well concealed in the clump of trees. At least while the sun stays down. Then my black sleeping bag will turn from camouflage to trouble. If they just keep moving, they will pass me and be gone in a minute.

But the Careers stop in the clearing about ten yards from my tree. They have flashlights, torches. I can see an arm here, a boot there, through the breaks in the branches. I turn to stone, not even daring to breathe. Have they spotted me? No, not yet. I can tell from their words their minds are elsewhere.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead."

"She's dead. I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?"

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done."

"Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice."

"I said she's dead!" An argument breaks out until one tribute silences the others.

"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" I almost fall out of the tree. The voice belongs to Peeta. Thank goodness, I had the foresight to belt myself in. I've rolled sideways off the fork and I'm facing the ground, held in place by the belt, one hand, and my feet straddling the pack inside my sleeping bag, braced against the trunk. There must have been some rustling when I tipped sideways, but the Careers have been too caught up in their own argument to catch it.

"Go on, then" says the boy from District 2. "See for yourself."

I just get a glimpse of Peeta, lit by a torch, heading back to the girl by the fire. His face is swollen with bruises, there's a bloody bandage on one arm, and from the sound of his gait he's limping somewhat. I remember him shaking him his head, telling me not to go into the fight for the supplies, when all along, all along he'd planned to throw himself into the thick of things. Just the opposite of what Haymitch had told him to do.

Okay, I can stomach that. Seeing all those supplies was tempting. But this . . . this other thing. This teaming up with the Career wolf pack to hunt down the rest of us. No one from District 12 would think of doing such a thing! And Peeta had the gall to talk to me about disgrace?

"Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with?"

Oh no. I think though my anger, please don't kill him.

"Let him tag along. What's the harm? And he's handy with that knife."

"Besides, he's our best chance of finding her."

It takes me a moment to register that the "her" they're referring to is me.

"Why? He is her brother, he is obviously going to protect her."

"Yeah but she might try to find him to protect him. You saw the reaping, how she protected her little sister."

"She might. Seemed pretty simpleminded to me. That would be the stupidest thing for her to do."

"Wish we knew how she got that eleven."

"Bet you Brother Boy knows."

I'm distracted as i hear shuffling under me. Peeta is walking back to join them. He walks right under my branch, and looks up and smiles at me. He has seen me. Panic rises in my throat. He teamed up with the careers who knows what he will do. All that stuff about trying to protect me could have been a load of crap trying to get me to trust him. But everything I know about Peeta tells me that's not what he is like.

The sound of Peeta returning silences them.

"Was she dead?" asks the boy from District 2.

"No. But she is now," says Peeta. Just then, the cannon fires. "Ready to move on?"

I relax, he didn't tell them he saw me. Of course he wouldn't.


	14. Chapter 14 Water and Fire

**Pretty much all of the chapters of the Games are the same as the book with a few changes so I am going to stop saying so.**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Water and Fire**

The Career pack sets off at a run just as dawn begins to break, and birdsong fills the air. I remain in my awkward position, muscles trembling with exertion for a while longer, then hoist myself back onto my branch. I need to get down, to get going, but for a moment I lie there, digesting what I've heard.

Not only is Peeta with the Careers, they are using him to find me. The simpleminded girl who has to be taken seriously because of her eleven. Because she can use a bow and arrow. Which Peeta knows better than anyone and he hasn't told them yet. Is he saving that information because he knows it's all that keeps him alive? Is he still trying to protect me? What is going on in his head? I mean he obviously saw me but didn't disclose my whereabouts to them.

Suddenly, the birds fall silent. Then one gives a high-pitched warning call. A single note. High above the dying campfire a hovercraft materializes. A set of huge metal teeth drops down. Slowly, gently, the dead tribute girl is lifted into the hovercraft. Then it vanishes. The birds resume their song.

"Move," I whisper to myself. I wriggle out of my sleeping bag, roll it up, and place it in the pack. I take a deep breath. While I've been concealed by darkness and the sleeping bag and the willow branches, it has probably been difficult for the cameras to get a good shot of me. I know they must be tracking me now though. The minute I hit the ground, I'm guaranteed a close-up.

The audience will have been beside themselves, knowing I was in the tree, that I overheard the Careers talking, that I discovered Peeta was with them. Until I work out exactly how I want to play that, I'd better at least act on top of things. Not perplexed. Certainly not confused or frightened. No, I need to look one step ahead of the game.

I'm about to take off when I think of my snares. I'm rewarded with one fine rabbit. In no time, I've cleaned and gutted the animal. I'm wishing for a fire - eating raw rabbit can give you rabbit fever, a lesson I learned the hard way -when I think of the dead tribute. I hurry back to her camp. Sure enough, the coals of her dying fire are still hot. I cut up the rabbit, fashion a spit out of branches,and set it over the coals.

I'm glad for the cameras now. I want sponsors to see I can hunt, that I'm a good bet because I won't be lured into traps as easily as the others will by hunger. While the rabbit cooks, I grind up part of a charred branch and set about camouflaging my orange pack. The black tones it down, but I feel a layer of mud would definitely help. Of course, to have mud, I'd need water . . .

I take off in the opposite direction the Careers went. I eat half of the rabbit as I go then save the leftovers for later wrapped in my plastic. I need to find water.

I search and keep moving looking for any sign of water and I can't find any. I'm determined to search until nightfall. Exhausted, I haul myself up into a tree and belt myself in, the anthem plays, and high in the sky I see the picture of the girl, who was apparently from District 8. The one Peeta went back to finish off.

My fear of the Career pack is minor compared to my burning thirst. Besides, they were heading away from me and by now they, too, will have to rest. With the scarcity of water, they may even have had to return to the lake for refills.

Morning brings distress. My mind seems foggy and forming a plan is hard. I lean back against the trunk of my tree, one finger gingerly stroking the sandpaper surface of my tongue, as I assess my options. How can I get water? Return to the lake. No good. I'd never make it. Hope for rain. There's not a cloud in the sky. Keep looking. Yes, this is my only chance. But then, another thought hits me, and the surge of anger that follows brings me to me senses.

Haymitch! He could send me water! Press a button and have it delivered to me in a silver parachute in minutes. I know I must have sponsors, at least one or two who could afford a pint of liquid for me. Yes, it's pricey, but these people, they're made of money. And they'll be betting on me as well. Perhaps Haymitch doesn't realize how deep my need is. I say in a voice as loud as I dare. "Water." I wait, hopefully, for a parachute to descend from the sky. But nothing is forthcoming.

There's someone out there who wants to buy me water only Haymitch is refusing to let it go through. As my mentor, he gets to control the flow of gifts from the sponsors. I know he hates me. He's made that clear enough. But enough to let me die? From this? He can't do that, can he? If a mentor mistreats his tributes, he'll be held accountable by the viewers, by the people back in District 12. Even Haymitch wouldn't risk that, would he? So . . . what? Is he trying to make me suffer for defying him? Is he directing all the sponsors toward Peeta? Is he just too drunk to even notice what's going on at the moment? Somehow I don't believe that and I don't believe he's trying to kill me off by neglect, either. What is Haymitch doing? Despite my anger, hatred, and suspicions, a small voice in the back of my head whispers an answer.

 _Maybe he's sending you a message_ , it says. A message. Saying what? Then I know. There's only one good reason Haymitch could be withholding water from me. Because he knows I've almost found it.

I grit my teeth and pull myself to my feet. My backpack seems to have tripled in weight. I find a broken branch that will do for a walking stick and I start off. By the afternoon, I know the end is coming. My legs are shaking and my heart too quick. I keep forgetting what I'm doing. I think of Prim back home watching my die and it pushes me forward a little more. I think of Finnick in the game room watching me die. I think he must be begging Haymitch to send me water. But he might not, he has his own tributes to watch out for. Well only one left now. But he made me promise. He did make me promise right? My mind is foggy.

I finally tumble to the ground unable to get up. I let my eyes close. I have misjudged Haymitch. He has no intention of helping me at is an okay place to die, I think. My fingertips make small swirling patterns in the cool, slippery earth. I love mud, I think. How many times I've tracked game with the help of its soft, readable surface. Good for bee stings, too. Mud. Mud. Mud! My eyes flyopen and I dig my fingers into the earth. It is mud! My nose lifts in the air. And those are lilies! Pond lilies! I crawl now, through the mud, dragging myself toward the scent. It's all I can do not to plunge my face into the water and gulp down as much as I can hold. But I have just enough sense left to abstain. With trembling hands, I get out my flask and fill it with water. I add what I remember to be the right number of drops of iodine for purifying it. Then half an hour of waiting is agony, but I do it. At least, I think it's a half an hour, but it's certainly as long as I can stand. Slowly, easy now, I tell myself. I take one swallow and make myself wait. Then another. Over the next couple of hours, I drink the entire half gallon. Then a second. I prepare another before I retire to a tree where I continue sipping, eating rabbit, and even indulge in one of my precious crackers. By the time the anthem plays, I feel remarkably better. There are no faces tonight, no tributes died today. Tomorrow I'll stay here, resting, camouflaging my backpack with mud, catching some of those little fish I saw as I sipped, digging up the roots of the pond lilies to make a nice meal. I snuggle down in my sleeping bag, hanging on to my water bottle for dear life, which, of course, it is.

A few hours later, the stampede of feet shakes me from slumber. I look around in bewilderment. It's not yet dawn, but my stinging eyes can see it. It would be hard to miss the wall of fire descending on me.


	15. Chapter 15 Treed

**Chapter Fifteen: Treed**

And then I'm running. Fireballs seem to be aimed right towards me. How long I scramble along dodging the fireballs I can't say, but the attacks finally begin to abate. I'm forced to stop as my body convulses, trying desperately to rid itself of the poisons I've been sucking in during the attack. I wait for the next hiss, the next signal to bolt. It doesn't come. My clothes are drenched in sweat. Somehow, through the smoke, I pick up the scent of singed hair. My hand fumbles to my braid and finds a fireball has seared off at least six inches of it. Strands of blackened hair crumble in my fingers. I stare at them, fascinated by the transformation, when the hissing registers.

My muscles react, only not fast enough this time. The fireball crashes into the ground at my side, but not before it skids across my right calf. Seeing my pants leg on fire sends me over the edge. I twist and scuttle backward on my hands and feet, shrieking, trying to remove myself from the horror. When I finally regain enough sense, I roll the leg back and forth on the ground, which stifles the worst of it. But then, without thinking, I rip away the remaining fabric with my bare hands.

I sit on the ground, a few yards from the blaze set off by the fireball. My calf is screaming, my hands covered in red welts. I'm shaking too hard to move. If the Gamemakers want to finish me off, now is the time. I hear Cinna's voice, carrying images of rich fabric and sparkling gems. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire." What a good laugh the Gamemakers must be having over that one. Sometimes the Gamemaker's do kill a player because the can, but mostly they manipulate us into confronting one another face to face. Which means, if I am no longer being fired at, there is at least one other tribute close at hand.

I would drag myself into a tree and take cover now if I could, but the smoke is still thick enough to kill me. I make myself stand and begin to limp away from the wall of flames that lights up the sky. It does not seem to be pursuing me any longer, except with its stinking black clouds.

Another light, daylight, begins to softly emerge. Swirls of smoke catch the sunbeams. My visibility is poor. I can see maybe fifteen yards in any direction. A tribute could easily be concealed from me here. I should draw my knife as a precaution, but I doubt my ability to hold it for long. The pain in my hands can in no way compete with that in my calf. I hate burns, have always hated them, even a small one gotten from pulling a pan of bread from the oven. It is the worst kind of pain to me, but I have never experienced anything like this.

I'm so weary I don't even notice I'm in the pool until I'm ankle-deep. It's spring-fed, bubbling up out of a crevice in some rocks, and blissfully cool. I plunge my hands into the shallow water and feel instant relief. Isn't that what my mother always says? The first treatment for a burn is cold water? That it draws out the heat? But she means minor burns. Probably she'd recommend it for my hands.

But what of my calf? Although I have not yet had the courage to examine it, I'm guessing that it's an injury in a whole different class. I lie on my stomach at edge of the pool for a while, dangling my hands in the water, examining the little flames on my fingernails that are beginning to chip off. I examine my leg, and the water helps a little.

Should I be moving on? The smoke is slowly clearing but still too heavy to be healthy. If I do continue away from the fire, won't I be walking straight into the weapons of the Careers? Besides, every time I lift my leg from the water, the pain rebounds so intensely I have to slide it back in. My hands are slightly less demanding. They can handle small breaks from the pool. So I slowly put my gear back in order. First I fill my bottle with the pool water, treat it, and when enough time has passed, begin to rehydrate my body. After a time, I force myself to nibble on a cracker, which helps settle my stomach. I roll up my sleeping bag. Except for a few black marks, it's relatively unscathed. My jacket's another matter. Stinking and scorched, at least a foot of the back beyond repair. I cut off the damaged area leaving me with a garment that comes just to the bottom of my ribs. But the hood's intact and it's far better than nothing.

Despite the pain, drowsiness begins to take over. I'd take to a tree and try to rest, except I'd be too easy to spot. Besides, abandoning my pool seems impossible. I neatly arrange my supplies, even settle my pack on my shoulders, but I can't seem to leave. I spot some water plants with edible roots and make a small meal with my last piece of rabbit. Sip water. Watch the sun make its slow arc across the sky. Where would I go anyway that is any safer than here? I lean back on my pack, overcome by drowsiness. If the Careers want me, let them find me, I think before drifting into a stupor. Let them find me.

And find me, they do. It's lucky I'm ready to move on because when I hear the feet, I have less than a minute head start. Evening has begun to fall. The moment I awake, I'm up and running, splashing across the pool, flying into the underbrush. My leg slows me down, but I sense my pursuers are not as speedy as they were before the fire, either. I hear their coughs, their raspy voices calling to one another. Still, they are closing in, just like a pack of wild dogs, and so I do what I have done my whole life in such circumstances. I pick a high tree and begin to climb. If running hurt, climbing is agonizing because it requires not only exertion but direct contact of my hands on the tree bark. I'm fast, though, and by the time they've reached the base of my trunk, I'm twenty feet up. For a moment, we stop and survey one another. I hope they can't hear the pounding of my heart. This could be it, I think. What chance do I have against them? All six are there, the five Careers and Peeta, and my only consolation is they're pretty beat-up, too. Even so, look at their weapons. Look at their faces, grinning and snarling at me, a sure kill above them.

I smile as I realize they can't reach me. "How's everything with you?" I call down cheerfully.

This takes them aback, but I know the crowd will love it.

"Well enough," says the boy from District 2. "Yourself?"

"It's been a bit warm for my taste," I say. I can almost hear the laughter from the Capitol. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?"

"Think I will," says the same boy.

"Here, take this, Cato," says the girl from District 1, and she offers him the silver bow and sheath of arrows. My bow! My arrows! Just the sight of them makes me so angry I want to scream, at myself.

I try to make eye contact with Peeta now, but he seems to be intentionally avoiding my gaze.

"No," says Cato, pushing away the bow. "I'll do better with my sword." I can see the weapon, a short, heavy blade at his belt. I give Cato time to hoist himself into the tree before I begin to climb again.

I'm another thirty feet in the air when I hear the crack and look down to see Cato flailing as he and a branch go down. He hits the ground hard and I'm hoping he possibly broke his neck when he gets back to his feet, swearing like a fiend.

Another girl tries to climb the tree but I'm at least eighty feet high now. She tries to shoot me and it's immediately evident that she's incompetent with a bow. One of the arrows gets lodged in the tree near me though and I'm able to seize it. I wave it teasingly above her head, as if this was the sole purpose of retrieving it, when actually I mean to use it if I ever get the chance. I could kill them, everyone of them, if those silver weapons were in my hands.

The Careers regroup on the ground and I can hear them growling conspiratorially among themselves, furious I have made them look foolish. But twilight has arrived and their window of attack on me is closing. Finally, I hear Peeta say harshly, "Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

Peeta's words hurt. For a moment I forget about the pain in my calf because the pain of his words cut deeper. Would he really try to kill me? Were his words about protecting me lies? Not that I expected him to protect me here but I didn't expect him to kill me either. So much for not letting the Capitol win.

Well, he's right about one thing. I'm going nowhere. All the relief from the pool water has gone, leaving me to feel the full potency of my burns. I scoot down to a fork in the tree and clumsily prepare for bed. Put on my jacket. Lay out my sleeping bed. Belt myself in and try to keep from moaning. The heat of the bag's too much for my leg. I cut a slash in the fabric and hang my calf out in the open air. I drizzle water on the wound, my hands.

All my bravado is gone. I'm weak from pain and hunger but can't bring myself to eat. Even if I can last the night, what will the morning bring? I stare into the foliage trying to will myself to rest, but the burns forbid it.

Again, I think about the ones I love could be watching me die right now. I try to put on a brave face from the pain from the burn makes it difficult. What is my mom and Prim thinking right now? What about Finnick? What about Gale? I think about my promises to Prim and to Finnick. I have failed them.


	16. Chapter 16 Tracker Jackers

**Chapter Sixteen: Tracker Jackers**

Suddenly, I see a pair of eye in the trees, probably a possum. Suddenly, I'm up on one elbow. Those are no possum's eyes, I know their glassy reflection too well. In fact, those are not animal eyes at all. In the last dim rays of light, I make her out, watching me silently from between the branches. Rue.

How long has she been here? The whole time probably.

Still and unobserved as the action unfolded beneath her. Perhaps she headed up her tree shortly before I did, hearing the pack was so close. For a while we hold each other's gaze. Then, without even rustling a leaf, her little hand slides into the open and points to something above my eyes follow the line of her finger up into the foliage above me. At first, I have no idea what she's pointing to, but then, about fifteen feet up, I make out a wasp nest. It could be the ordinary leave-us-alone-and-we'll-leave-youalone type. But these are the Hunger Games, and ordinary isn't the norm. More likely they will be one of the Capitol's muttations, tracker jackers. Like the jabberjays, these killer wasps were spawned in a lab and strategically placed, like land mines, around the districts during the war. Larger than regular wasps, they have a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that raises a lump the size of a plum on contact. Most people can't tolerate more than a few stings. Some die at once. If you live, the hallucinations brought on by the venom have actually driven people to madness. And there's another thing, these wasps will hunt down anyone who disturbs their nest and attempt to kill them. That's where the tracker part of the name comes from.

Given my circumstances, I guess it doesn't matter what type of wasp nest it is. I'm wounded and trapped. Then I start to think. The nest might be the sole option I have left. If I can drop it down on them, I may be able to escape. But I'll risk my life in the process. Of course, I'll never be able to get in close enough to the actual nest to cut it free. I'll have to saw off the branch at the trunk and send the whole thing down. The serrated portion of my knife should be able to manage that. But can my hands? And will the vibration from the sawing raise the swarm? And what if the Careers figure out what I'm doing and move their camp? That would defeat the whole purpose.

I realize that the best chance I'll have to do the sawing without drawing notice will be during the anthem. That could begin any time. I drag myself out of my bag, make sure my knife is secured in my belt, and begin to make my way up the tree. This in itself is dangerous since the branches are becoming precariously thin even for me, but I persevere. When I reach the limb that supports the nest, the humming becomes more distinctive. But it's still oddly subdued if these are tracker jackers. It's the smoke, I think. It's sedated them. This was the one defense the rebels found to battle the wasps.

I look at Peeta down below. If I succeed then he will be hit with the nest too, and it could kill him. I don't want to be the one to kill him. Is he still on my side? o=Or is he trying to kill me too? I can't tell.

The seal of the Capitol shines above me and the anthem blares out. It's now or never, I think, and begin to saw. Blisters burst on my right hand as I awkwardly drag the knife back and forth. Once I've got a groove, the work requires less effort but is almost more than I can handle. I grit my teeth and saw away occasionally glancing at the sky to register that there were no deaths today. That's all right. The audience will be sated seeing me injured and treed and the pack below me. But the anthem's running out and I'm only three quarters of the way through the wood when the music ends, the sky goes dark, and I'm forced to stop.

I decide to wait and finish at dawn. I inch back down to my fork to find the best surprise I've ever had. Sitting on my sleeping bag is a small plastic pot attached to a silver parachute. My first gift from a sponsor! Haymitch must have had it sent in during the anthem. The pot easily fits in the palm of my hand. What can it be? Not food surely. I unscrew the lid and I know by the scent that it's medicine. Cautiously, I probe the surface of the ointment. The throbbing in my fingertip vanishes.

"Oh, Haymitch," I whisper. "Thank you." He has not abandoned me. Not left me to fend entirely for myself.

The cost of this medicine must be astronomical. Probably not one but many sponsors have contributed to buy this one tiny pot. To me, it is priceless.

I dip two fingers in the jar and gently spread the balm over my calf. The effect is almost magical, erasing the pain on contact, leaving a pleasant cooling sensation behind. This is no herbal concoction that my mother grinds up out of woodland plants, it's high-tech medicine brewed up in the Capitol's labs. When my calf is treated, I rub a thin layer into my hands. After wrapping the pot in the parachute, I nestle it safely away in my pack. Now that the pain has eased, it's all I can do to reposition myself in my bag before I plunge into sleep.

In the gray morning light, I examine my hands. The medicine has transformed all the angry red patches to a soft baby-skin pink. My leg still feels inflamed, but that burn was far deeper. I apply another coat of medicine and quietly pack up my gear. Whatever happens, I'm going to have to move and move fast. I also make myself eat a cracker and a strip of beef and drink a few cups of water.

Below me, I can see the Career pack and Peeta asleep on the ground. By her position, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, I'd guess Glimmer was supposed to be on guard, but fatigue overcame her.

Looking down at Peeta I see he is asleep as well. Does he plan on helping to kill me or not? What is he doing? I don't know. He is still my brother, and even if he is trying to kill me I still love him I admit to myself. I pull a small branch off its about as long as my finger and try to drop it on him, its a miracle that it lands on his head. He looks up at me, and I wave my hand to him, hoping the others don't notice. I look and they are still sleeping. I don't even know if he can see me but I don't have time to worry about that. I tried to warn him.

My eyes squint as they try to penetrate the tree next to me, but I can't make out Rue. Since she tipped me off, it only seems fair to warn her too. Besides, if I'm going to die today, and Peeta can't win, it's Rue I want to win. I call Rue's name in a hushed whisper and the eyes appear, wide and alert, at once. She points up to the nest again. I hold up my knife and make a sawing motion. She nods and disappears. There's a rustling in a nearby tree. Then the same noise again a bit farther off. I realize she's leaping from tree to tree. It's all I can do not to laugh out loud. Is this what she showed the Gamemakers?

At the tree limb that holds the nest, I position the knife in the groove and I'm about to draw the teeth across the wood when I see something moving. There, on the nest. The bright gold gleam of a tracker jacker lazily making its way across the papery gray surface. No question, it's acting a little subdued, but the wasp is up and moving and that means the others will be out soon as well. Sweat breaks out on the palms of my hands, beading up through the ointment, and I do my best to pat them dry on my shirt. If I don't get through this branch in a matter of seconds, the entire swarm could emerge and attack me.

I look down at Peeta breifly and he is standing up away from the tree holding a knife. Better than nothing, I think.

There's no sense in putting it off. I take a deep breath, grip the knife handle and bear down as hard as I can. Back, forth, back, forth! The tracker jackers begin to buzz and I hear them coming out. Back, forth, back, forth! A stabbing pain shoots through my knee and I know one has found me and the others will be honing in. As the knife cuts through, I shove the end of the branch as far away from me.

It smashes with a thud on the ground. The nest bursts open like an egg, and a furious swarm of tracker jackers takes to the air. I feel a second sting on the cheek, a third on my neck, and their venom almost immediately makes me woozy. I cling to the tree with one arm while I rip the barbed stingers out of my flesh. Fortunately, only these three tracker jackers had identified me before the nest went down. The rest of the insects have targeted their enemies on the ground.

It's mayhem. The Careers have woken to a full-scale tracker jacker attack. Peeta bolts immediately but looks up and me and hesitates. A few others have the sense to drop everything and bolt. I can hear cries of "To the lake! To the lake!" and know they hope to evade the wasps by taking to the water. It must be close if they think they can outdistance the furious insects. Glimmer and another girl, the one from District 4, are not so lucky. They receive multiple stings before they're even out of my view. Glimmer appears to go completely mad, shrieking and trying to bat the wasps off with her bow, which is pointless. She calls to the others for help but, of course, no one returns. The girl from District 4 staggers out of sight, although I wouldn't bet on her making it to the lake. I watch Glimmer fall, twitch hysterically around on the ground for a few minutes, and then go still.

The nest is nothing but an empty shell. The wasps have vanished in pursuit of the others. I don't think they'll return, but I don't want to risk it. I scamper down the tree and hit the ground running in the opposite direction of the lake. The poison from the stingers makes me wobbly, but I find my way back to my own little pool and submerge myself in the water, just in case any wasps are still on my trail. After about five minutes, I drag myself onto the rocks. People have not exaggerated the effects of the tracker jacker stings. Actually, the one on my knee is closer to an orange than a plum in size. A foul-smelling green liquid oozes from the places where I pulled out the stingers.

The bow! Somewhere in my befuddled mind one thought connects to another and I'm on my feet, teetering through the trees back to Glimmer. The bow. The arrows. I must get them. I haven't heard the cannons fire yet, so perhaps Glimmer is in some sort of coma, her heart still struggling against the wasp venom. But once it stops and the cannon signals her death, a hovercraft will move in and retrieve her body, taking the only bow and sheath of arrows I've seen out of the Games for good. And I refuse to let them slip through my fingers again!

I reach Glimmer just as the cannon fires. The tracker jackers have vanished. I have to break several of what used to be her fingers with a stone to free the bow. The sheath of arrows is pinned under her back. I try to roll over her body by pulling on one arm, but the flesh disintegrates in my hands and I fall back on the ground.

Is this real? Or have the hallucinations begun? I squeeze my eyes tight and try to breathe through my mouth, ordering myself not to become sick. Breakfast must stay down, it might be days before I can hunt again. A second cannon fires and I'm guessing the girl from District 4 has just died. I hear the birds fall silent and then one give the warning call, which means a hovercraft is about to appear. Confused, I think it's for Glimmer, although this doesn't quite make sense because I'm still in the picture, still fighting for the arrows. I lurch back onto my knees and the trees around me begin to spin in circles. In the middle of the sky, I spot the hovercraft. I throw myself over Glimmer's body as if to protect it but then I see the girl from District 4 being lifted into the air and vanishing.

"Do this!" I command myself. Clenching my jaw, I dig my hands under Glimmer's body, get a hold on what must be her rib cage, and force her onto her stomach. I can't help it, I'm hyperventilating now, the whole thing is so nightmarish and I'm losing my grasp on what's real. I tug on the silver sheath of arrows, but it's caught on something, her shoulder blade, something, and finally yank it free. I've just encircled the sheath with my arms when I hear the footsteps, several pairs, coming through the underbrush, and I realize the Careers have come back. They've come back to kill me or get their weapons or both.

But it's too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it.

I'm helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta's face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

"What are you still doing here?" he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he's been dipped in dew. "Are you mad?" He's picking me up under the arms and setting me on my feet. "Get up! Get up!" I stand on my own, but he's still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. "Run!" he screams. "Run!"

Behind him, Cato slashes his way through the brush. He's sparkling wet, too, and badly stung under one eye. I catch the gleam of sunlight on his sword and do as Peeta says. Holding tightly to my bow and arrows, banging into trees that appear out of nowhere, tripping and falling as I try to keep my balance. Back past my pool and into unfamiliar woods. The world begins to bend in alarming ways. A butterfly balloons to the size of a house then shatters into a million stars. Trees transform to blood and splash down over my boots. Ants begin to crawl out of the blisters on my hands and I can't shake them free.

They're climbing up my arms, my neck. Someone's screaming, a long high pitched scream that never breaks for breath. I have a vague idea it might be me. I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: My brother is on my side. Then the ants bore into my eyes and I black out.


	17. Chapter 17 Rue

**Chapter 17: Rue**

I enter a nightmare from which I wake repeatedly only to find a greater terror awaiting me. All the things I dread most, all the things I dread for others manifest in such vivid detail I can't help but believe they're real. Each time I wake, I think, At last, this is over, but it isn't. It's only the beginning of a new chapter of torture. How many ways do I watch Prim die? See Finnick be tortured? Relive my father's last moments? See Cato kill Peeta? Feel my own body ripped apart? This is the nature of the tracker jacker venom, so carefully created to target the place where fear lives in your brain.

When I finally do come to my senses, I lie still, waiting for the next onslaught of imagery. But eventually I accept that the poison must have finally worked its way out of my system, leaving my body wracked and feeble.

I'm still lying on my side, locked in the fetal position. I lift a hand to my eyes to find them sound, untouched by ants that never existed. Simply stretching out my limbs requires an enormous effort. So many parts of me hurt, it doesn't seem worthwhile taking inventory of them.

I am covered with old, dead leaves. The bow and arrows are still by my side. My clothing's damp, but I don't know whether pond water, dew, rain, or sweat is the cause. For a long time, all I can do is take tiny sips from my bottle and watch a beetle crawl up the side of a honeysuckle bush.

How long have I been out? What happened? Who died?

What about Peeta? Is he okay? He saved my life. Is he still trying to protect me? Take care of his little sister? like he said the night before the games started. I don't know for sure, but my instincts tell me he must be. What was he doing with the careers though?

I decide I need food and water. I hunt along the way to the water and I manage to take down a rabbit with my bow and arrow. After about and hour i find a stream, its shallow but wide. I get some water in my jog and add the iodine to purify. As I wait i wash myself in the stream. I treat my burns again with the ointment.

I take down another bird. I clean the meat and decide to make a small fire at dusk, to cook it. I place the first its of meat over the coal when I hear a twig snap. In one motion, I turn to the sound, bringing the bow and arrow to my shoulder. There's no one there. No one I can see anyway. Then I spot the tip of a child's boot just peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. My shoulders relax and I grin. She can move through the woods like a shadow, you have to give her that. How else could she have followed me? The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"You know, they're not the only ones who can form alliances," I say.

For a moment, no response. Then one of Rue's eyes edges around the trunk. "You want me for an ally?"

"Why not? You saved me with those tracker jackers. You're smart enough to still be alive. And I can't seem to shake you anyway," I say. She blinks at me, trying to decide. "You hungry?" I can see her swallow hard, her eye flickering to the meat. "Come on then, I've had two kills today."

Rue tentatively steps out into the open. "I can fix your stings."

"Can you?" I ask. "How?"

She digs in the pack she carries and pulls out a handful of leaves. I'm almost certain they're the ones my mother uses. "Where'd you find those?"

"Just around. We all carry them when we work in the orchards. They left a lot of nests there," says Rue. "There are a lot here, too."

"That's right. You're District Eleven. Agriculture," I say. "Orchards, huh? That must be how you can fly around the trees like you've got wings." Rue smiles. I've landed on one of the few things she'll admit pride in. "Well, come on, then. Fix me up."

I plunk down by the fire and roll up my pant leg to reveal the sting on my knee. To my surprise, Rue places the handful of leaves into her mouth and begins to chew them. My mother would use other methods, but it's not like we have a lot of options. After a minute or so, Rue presses a gloppy green wad of chewed leaves and spit on my knee. "Ohhh." The sound comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. It's as if the leaves are actually leaching the pain right out of the sting.

Rue gives a giggle. "Lucky you had the sense to pull the stingers out or you'd be a lot worse."

"Do my neck! Do my cheek!" I almost beg.

Rue stuffs another handful of leaves in her mouth, and soon I'm laughing because the relief is so sweet. I notice a long burn on Rue's forearm. "I've got something for that." I set aside my weapons and anoint her arm with the burn medicine.

"You have good sponsors," she says longingly.

"Have you gotten anything yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "You will, though. Watch. The closer we get to the end, the more people will realize how clever you are." I turn the meat over.

"You weren't joking, about wanting me for an ally?" she asks.

"No, I meant it," I say. I can almost hear Haymitch groaning as I team up with this wispy child. But I want her. Because she's a survivor, and I trust her, and why not admit it? She reminds me of Prim.

"Okay," she says, and holds out her hand. We shake.

"It's a deal."

Of course, this kind of deal can only be temporary, but neither of us mentions that.

Rue contributes a big handful of some sort of starchy root to the meal. For a while, all conversation stops as we fill our stomachs.

"Oh," says Rue with a sigh. "I've never had a whole leg to myself before."

I'll bet she hasn't. I'll bet meat hardly ever comes her way. "Take the other," I say.

"Really?" she asks.

"Take whatever you want. Now that I've got a bow and arrows, I can get more. Plus I've got snares. I can show you how to set them," I say. Rue still looks uncertainly at the leg. "Oh, take it," I say, putting the drumstick in her hands. "It will only keep a few days anyway, and we've got the whole bird plus the rabbit." Once she's got hold of it, her appetite wins out and she takes a huge mouthful.

"I'd have thought, in District Eleven, you'd have a bit more to eat than us. You know, since you grow the food," I say.

Rue's eyes widen. "Oh, no, we're not allowed to eat the crops."

"They arrest you or something?" I ask.

"They whip you and make everyone else watch," says Rue. "The mayor's very strict about it." I can tell by her expression that it's not that uncommon an occurrence. A public whipping's a rare thing in District 12, although occasionally one occurs. Technically, Gale and I could be whipped on a daily basis for poaching in the woods - well, technically, we could get a whole lot worse - except all the officials buy our meat. Besides, our mayor, Madge's father, doesn't seem to have much taste for such events. Maybe being the least prestigious, poorest, most ridiculed district in the country has its advantages. Such as, being largely ignored by the Capitol as long as we produce our coal quotas.

"Do you get all the coal you want?" Rue asks.

"No," I answer. "Just what we buy and whatever we track in on our boots."

"They feed us a bit extra during harvest, so that people can keep going longer," says Rue.

"Don't you have to be in school?" I ask.

"Not during harvest. Everyone works then," says Rue.

It's interesting, hearing about her life. We have so little communication with anyone outside our district. In fact, I wonder if the Gamemakers are blocking out our conversation, because even though the information seems harmless, they don't want people in different districts to know about one another.

At Rue's suggestion, we lay out all our food to plan ahead. She's seen most of mine, but I add the last couple of crackers and beef strips to the pile. She's gathered quite a collection of roots, nuts, greens, and even some berries.

I roll an unfamiliar berry in my fingers. "You sure this is safe?"

"Oh, yes, we have them back home. I've been eating them for days," she says, popping a handful in her mouth. I tentatively bite into one, and it's as good as our blackberries. Taking Rue on as an ally seems a better choice all the time. We divide up our food supplies, so in case we're separated, we'll both be set for a few days.

Apart from the food, Rue has a small water skin, a homemade slingshot, and an extra pair of socks. She also has a sharp shard of rock she uses as a knife. "I know it's not much," she says as if embarrassed, "but I had to get away from the Cornucopia fast."

"You did just right," I say. When I spread out my gear, she gasps a little when she sees the sunglasses.

"How did you get those?" she asks.

"In my pack. They've been useless so far. They don't block the sun and they make it harder to see," I say with a shrug.

"These aren't for sun, they're for darkness," exclaims Rue. "Sometimes, when we harvest through the night, they'll pass out a few pairs to those of us highest in the trees. Where the torchlight doesn't reach. One time, this boy Martin, he tried to keep his pair. Hid it in his pants. They killed him on the spot."

"They killed a boy for taking these?" I say.

"Yes, and everyone knew he was no danger. Martin wasn't right in the head. I mean, he still acted like a three-year-old. He just wanted the glasses to play with," says Rue. Hearing this makes me feel like District 12 is some sort of safe haven. Of course, people keel over from starvation all the time, but I can't imagine the Peacekeepers murdering a simpleminded child. There's a little girl, one of Greasy Sae's grandkids, who wanders around the Hob. She's not quite right, but she's treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and things.

"So what do these do?" I ask Rue, taking the glasses.

"They let you see in complete darkness," says Rue. "Try them tonight when the sun goes down."

"Where do you sleep?" I ask her. "In the trees?" She nods. "In just your jacket?"

Rue holds up her extra pair of socks. "I have these for my hands."

I think of how cold the nights have been. "You can share my sleeping bag if you want. We'll both easily fit." Her face lights up. I can tell this is more than she dared hope for.

We pick a fork high in a tree and settle in for the night just as the anthem begins to play. There were no deaths today.

"Rue, I only woke up today. How many nights did I miss?" The anthem should block out our words, but still I whisper. I even take the precaution of covering my lips with my hand. I don't want the audience to know what I'm planning to tell her about Peeta. Taking a cue from me, she does the same.

"Two," she says. "The girls from Districts One and Four are dead. There's ten of us left."

"Something strange happened. At least, I think it did. It might have been the tracker jacker venom making me imagine things," I say. "You know the boy from my district? Peeta? I think he saved my life. But he was with the Careers."

"He's not with them now," she says. "I've spied on their base camp by the lake. They made it back before they collapsed from the stingers. But he's not there. He ran off down by the river. He is your brother after all he was probably with them to protect you."

I nod, relieved that he is still alive.

"Do you want to find him?" Rue asks

I shake my head, no. I don't want to see him die when the time comes.

The anthem ends and the sky goes dark. "Let's try out these glasses." I pull out the glasses and slip them on. Rue wasn't kidding. I can see everything from the leaves on the trees to a skunk strolling through the bushes a good fifty feet away. I could kill it from here if I had a mind to. I could kill anyone.

"I wonder who else got a pair of these," I say.

"The Careers have two pairs. But they've got everything down by the lake," Rue says. "And they're so strong."

"We're strong, too," I say. "Just in a different way."

"You are. You can shoot," she says. "What can I do?"

"You can feed yourself. Can they?" I ask.

"They don't need to. They have all those supplies," Rue says.

"Say they didn't. Say the supplies were gone. How long would they last?" I say. "I mean, it's the Hunger Games,right?"

"But, Katniss, they're not hungry," says Rue.

"No, they're not. That's the problem," I agree. And for the first time, I have a plan. A plan that isn't motivated by the need for flight and evasion. An offensive plan. "I think we're going to have to fix that, Rue."


	18. Chapter 18 Plans

**Really long chapter but I'm itching to get to the part where she is with Peeta and I will make more changes!**

 **Chapter 18: Plans**

Rue has decided to trust me wholeheartedly. I know this because as soon as the anthem finishes she snuggles up against me and falls asleep. Nor do I have any misgivings about her, as I take no particular precautions. If she'd wanted me dead, all she would have had to do was disappear from that tree without pointing out the tracker jacker nest. Needling me, at the very back of my mind, is the obvious. Both of us can't win these Games. But since the odds are still against either of us surviving, I manage to ignore the thought.

Besides, I'm distracted by my latest idea about the Careers and their supplies. Somehow Rue and I must find a way to destroy their food. I'm pretty sure feeding themselves will be a tremendous struggle. Traditionally, the Career tributes' strategy is to get hold of all the food early on and work from there. The years when they have not protected it well - one year a pack of hideous reptiles destroyed it, another a Gamemakers' flood washed it away - those are usually the years that tributes from other districts have won. That the Careers have been better fed growing up is actually to their disadvantage, because they don't know how to be hungry. Not the way Rue and I do.

The boom of the cannon jolts me awake. The sky's streaked with light, the birds already chattering. Rue perches in a branch across from me, her hands cupping something. We wait, listening for more shots, but there aren't any.

"Who doyou think that was?" I can't help thinking of Peeta.

"I don't know. It could have been any of the others," says Rue. "I guess we'll know tonight."

"Who's left again?" I ask. "The boy from District One. Both tributes from Two. The boy from Three. Thresh and me. And you and Peeta," says Rue. "That's eight. Wait, and the boy from Ten, the one with the bad leg. He makes nine."

There's someone else, but neither of us can remember who it is.

"I wonder how that last one died," says Rue.

"No telling. But it's good for us. A death should hold the crowd for a bit. Maybe we'll have time to do something before the Gamemakers decide things have been moving too slowly," I say. "What's in your hands?"

"Breakfast," says Rue. She holds them out revealing two big eggs.

"What kind are those?" I ask.

"Not sure. There's a marshy area over that way. Some kind of waterbird," she says.

It'd be nice to cook them, but neither of us wants to risk a fire. My guess is the tribute who died today was a victim of the Careers, which means they've recovered enough to be back in the Games. We each suck out the insides of an egg, eat a rabbit leg and some berries. It's a good breakfast anywhere.

"Ready to do it?" I say, pulling on my pack.

"Do what?" says Rue, but by the way she bounces up, you can tell she's up for whatever I propose.

"Today we take out the Careers' food," I say.

"Really? How?" You can see the glint of excitement in her eyes. In this way, she's exactly the opposite of Prim for whom adventures are an ordeal.

"No idea. Come on, we'll figure out a plan while we hunt," I say.

We don't get much hunting done though because I'm too busy getting every scrap of information I can out of Rue about the Careers' base. She's only been in to spy on them briefly, but she's observant. They have set up their camp beside the lake. Their supply stash is about thirty yards away. During the day, they've been leaving another tribute, the boy from District 3, to watch over the supplies.

"The boy from District Three?" I ask. "He's working with them?"

"Yes, he stays at the camp full-time. He got stung, too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake," says Rue. "I guess they agreed to let him live if he acted as their guard. But he's not very big."

"What weapons does he have?" I ask.

"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily," says Rue.

"And the food's just out in the open?" I say. She nods.

"Something's not quite right about that whole setup."

"I know. But I couldn't tell what exactly," says Rue.

"Katniss, even if you could get to the food, how would you get rid of it?"

"Burn it. Dump it in the lake. Soak it in fuel." I poke Rue in the belly, just like I would Prim. "Eat it!" She giggles. "Don't worry, I'll think of something. Destroying things is much easier than making them."

For a while, we dig roots, we gather berries and greens, we devise a strategy in hushed voices. And I come to know Rue, the oldest of six kids, fiercely protective of her siblings, who gives her rations to the younger ones, who forages in the meadows in a district where the Peacekeepers are far less obliging than ours. Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, "Music."

"Music?" I say. In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness. At least a rainbow gives you a tip about the weather. "You have a lot of time for that?"

"We sing at home. At work, too. That's why I love your pin," she says, pointing to the mockingjay that I've again forgotten about.

"You have mockingjays?" I ask.

"Oh, yes. I have a few that are my special friends. We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me," she says.

"What do you mean?" I say.

"I'm usually up highest, so I'm the first to see the flag that signals quitting time. There's a special little song I do," says Rue. She opens her mouth and sings a little four-note run in a sweet, clear voice. "And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That's how everyone knows to knock off," she continues. "They can be dangerous though, if you get too near their nests. But you can't blame them for that."

I unclasp the pin and hold it out to her. "Here, you take it. It has more meaning for you than me."

"Oh, no," says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin.

"I like to see it on you. That's how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this." She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it's a flower. "It's a good luck charm."

"Well, it's worked so far," I say, pinning the mockingjay back on my shirt. "Maybe you should just stick with that."

By lunch, we have a plan. By early afternoon, we are poised to carry it out. I help Rue collect and place the wood for the first two campfires, the third she'll have time for on her own. We decide to meet afterward at the site where we ate our first meal together. The stream should help guide me back to it. Before I leave, I make sure Rue's well stocked with food and matches. I even insist she take my sleeping bag, in case it's not possible to rendezvous by nightfall.

"What about you? Won't you be cold?" she asks.

"Not if I pick up another bag down by the lake," I say.

"You know, stealing isn't illegal here," I say with a grin.

At the last minute, Rue decides to teach me her mockingjay signal, the one she gives to indicate the day's work is done. "It might not work. But if you hear the mockingjays singing it, you'll know I'm okay, only I can't get back right away."

"Are there many mockingjays here?" I ask.

"Haven't you seen them? They've got nests everywhere," she says. I have to admit I haven't noticed.

"Okay, then. If all goes according to plan, I'll see you for dinner," I say.

Unexpectedly, Rue throws her arms around me. I only hesitate a moment before I hug her back.

"You be careful," she says to me.

"You, too," I say. I turn and head back to the stream, feeling somehow worried. About Rue being killed, about Rue not being killed and the two of us being left for last, about leaving Rue alone, about leaving Prim alone back home. No, Prim has my mother and Gale and a baker, who i now know is my father,has promised she won't go hungry. Rue has only me.

I find my thoughts preoccupied with unanswered questions, most of which concern my brother. It feels weird having a brother, only ever having had a sister. The cannon that fired early this morning, did that signify his death? If so, how did he die? At the hand of a Career? And was that in revenge for letting me live?

I'm getting closer to the Careers camp. At the edge of the woods a cover myself with some thick foliage. I can easily observe the the Career camp without being spotted. Between us lies the flat expanse where the Games began. There are four tributes. The boy from District 1, Cato and the girl from District 2, and a scrawny, ashen-skinned boy who must be from District 3. He made almost no impression on me at all during our time in the Capitol. I can remember almost nothing about him, not his costume, not his training score, not his interview. Even now, as he sits there fiddling with some kind of plastic box, he's easily ignored in the presence of his large and domineering companions. But he must be of some value or they wouldn't have bothered to let him live. Still, seeing him only adds to my sense of unease over why the Careers would possibly leave him as a guard, why they have allowed him to live at all. All four tributes seem to still be recovering from the tracker jacker attack. Even from here, I can see the large swollen lumps on their bodies. They must not have had the sense to remove the stingers, or if they did, not known about the leaves that healed them. Apparently, whatever medicines they found in the Cornucopia have been ineffective.

The Cornucopia sits in its original position, but its insides have been picked clean. Most of the supplies, held in crates, burlap sacks, and plastic bins, are piled neatly in a pyramid in what seems a questionable distance from the camp. Some other factor is at play here, and I'd better stay put until I figure out what it is. My guess is the pyramid is booby-trapped in some manner. I think of concealed pits, descending nets, a thread that when broken sends a poisonous dart into your heart. Really, the possibilities are endless.

While I am mulling over my options, I hear Cato shout out. He's pointing up to the woods, far beyond me, and without turning I know that Rue must have set the first campfire. We'd made sure to gather enough green wood to make the smoke noticeable. The Careers begin to arm themselves at once.

An argument breaks out. It's loud enough for me to hear that it concerns whether or not the boy from District 3 should stay or accompany them.

"He's coming. We need him in the woods, and his job's done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies," says Cato.

"What about Brother Boy?" says the boy from District 1.

"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us," says Cato.

So Peeta is out there in the woods, wounded badly. But I am still in the dark on what motivated him to betray the Careers.

"Come on," says Cato. He thrusts a spear into the hands of the boy from District 3, and they head off in the direction of the fire. The last thing I hear as they enter the woods is Cato saying, "When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes."

Somehow I don't think he's talking about Rue. She didn't drop a nest of tracker jackers on him. I stay put for a half an hour or so, trying to figure out what to do about the supplies. The one advantage I have with the bow and arrow is distance. I could send a flaming arrow into the pyramid easily enough - I'm a good enough shot to get it through those openings in the net - but there's no guarantee it would catch. More likely it'd just burn itself out and then what? I'd have achieved nothing and given them far too much information about myself. That I was here, that I have an accomplice, that I can use the bow and arrow with accuracy.

There's no alternative. I'm going to have to get in closer and see if I can't discover what exactly protects the supplies. In fact, I'm just about to reveal myself when a movement catches my eye. Several hundred yards to my right, I see someone emerge from the woods. For a second, I think it's Rue, but then I recognize Foxface - she's the one we couldn't remember this morning - creeping out onto the plain. When she decides it's safe, she runs for the pyramid, with quick, small steps. Just before she reaches the circle of supplies that have been littered around the pyramid, she stops, searches the ground, and carefully places her feet on a spot. Then she begins to approach the pyramid with strange little hops, sometimes landing on one foot, teetering slightly, sometimes risking a few steps. At one point, she launches up in the air, over a small barrel and lands poised on her tiptoes.

So, I'm right about the booby trap, but it's clearly more complex than I had imagined. I was right about the girl, too. How wily is she to have discovered this path into the food and to be able to replicate it so neatly? She fills her pack, but only a handful from each, not enough to tip off that the food is missing. Not enough to cause suspicion. And then she's doing her odd little dance back out of the circle and scampering into the woods again, safe and sound.

What sort of trap have they laid that requires such dexterity? Has so many trigger points? Why did she squeal so as her hands made contact with the earth? You'd have thought . . . and slowly it begins to dawn on me . . . you'd have thought the very ground was going to explode.

"It's mined," I whisper. That explains everything. The Careers' willingness to leave their supplies, Foxface's reaction, the involvement of the boy from District 3, where they have the factories, where they make televisions and automobiles and explosives. But where did he get them? The ground around the plate that lifted the tributed into the arena has been dug up and patted back down. The land mines were disabled after the sixty seconds we stood on the plates, but the boy from District 3 must have managed to reactivate them. I've never seen anyone in the Games do that. I bet it came as a shock even to the Gamemakers.

What am I supposed to do now? Obviously, I can't go strolling into that mess without blowing myself sky-high. As for sending in a burning arrow, that's more laughable than ever. The mines are set off by pressure. It doesn't have to be a lot, either.

I stare at the pyramid, the bins, the crates, too heavy to topple over with an arrow. Maybe one contains cooking oil, and the burning arrow idea is reviving when I realize I could end up losing all twelve of my arrows and not get a direct hit on an oil bin, since I'd just be guessing. I'm genuinely thinking of trying to re-create Foxface's trip up to the pyramid in hopes of finding a new means of destruction when my eyes light on the burlap bag of apples. I could sever the rope in one shot, didn't I do as much in the Training Center? It's a big bag, but it still might only be good for one explosion. If only I could free the apples themselves . . . I know what to do. I move into range and give myself three arrows to get the job done. I place my feet carefully, block out the rest of the world as I take meticulous aim, The first arrow tears through the side of the bag near the top, leaving a split in the burlap. The second widens it to a gaping hole. I can see the first apple teetering when I let the third arrow go, catching the torn flap of burlap and ripping it from the bag.

For a moment, everything seems frozen in time. Then the apples spill to the ground and I'm blown backward into the air. The impact with the hard-packed earth of the plain knocks the wind out of me. My backpack does little to soften the blow. Fortunately my quiver has caught in the crook of my elbow, sparing both itself and my shoulder, and my bow is locked in my grasp. The ground still shakes with explosions. I can't hear them. I can't hear anything at the moment. But the apples must have set off enough mines, causing debris to activate the others. I manage to shield my face with my arms as shattered bits of matter, some of it burning, rain down around me. An acrid smoke fills the air, which is not the best remedy for someone trying to regain the ability to breathe.

After about a minute, the ground stops vibrating. I roll on my side and allow myself a moment of satisfaction the sight of the smoldering wreckage that was recently the pyramid. The Careers aren't likely to salvage anything out of that.

I'd better get out of here, I think. They'll be making a beeline for the place. But once I'm on my feet, I realize escape may not be so simple. I'm dizzy. Not the slightly wobbly kind, but the kind that sends the trees swooping around you and causes the earth to move in waves under your feet. Panic begins to set in. I can't stay here. Flight is essential. But I can neither walk nor hear. I place a hand to my left ear, the one that was turned toward the blast, and it comes away bloody. Have I gone deaf from the explosion? The idea frightens me. I rely as much on my ears as my eyes as a hunter, maybe more at times. But I can't let my fear show. Absolutely, positively, I am live on every screen in Panem. No blood trails, I tell myself, and manage to pull my hood up over my head, tie the cord under my chin with uncooperative fingers. That should help soak up the blood. I can't walk, but can I crawl? I move forward tentatively. Yes, if I go very slowly, I can crawl. I can't get caught out here on my hands and knees in the open. Not only will I face death, it's sure to be a long and painful one at Cato's hand.

To say I make it in the nick of time is an understatement. have literally just dragged myself into the tangle of hushes at the base of the trees when there's Cato, barreling onto the plain, soon followed by his companions. His rage is so extreme it might be comical - so people really do tear out their hair and beat the ground with their fists - if I didn't know that it was aimed at me, at what I have done to him. Add to that my proximity, my inability to run or defend myself, and in fact, the whole thing has me terrified. I'm glad my hiding place makes it impossible for the cameras to get a close shot of me because I'm biting my nails like there's no tomorrow. Gnawing off the last bits of nail polish, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

The boy from District 3 throws stones into the ruins and must have declared all the mines activated because the Careers are approaching the wreckage. Cato has finished the first phase of his tantrum and takes out his anger on the smoking remains by kicking open various containers. The other tributes are poking around in the mess, looking for anything to salvage, but there's nothing.

The boy from District 3 has done his job too well. This idea must occur to Cato, too, because he turns on the boy and the boy from District 3 only has time to turn and run before Cato catches him in a headlock from behind. I can see the muscles ripple in Cato's arms as he sharply jerks the boy's head to the side. It's that quick. The death of the boy from District 3. The other two Careers seem to be trying to calm Cato down. I can tell he wants to return to the woods, but they keep pointing at the sky, which puzzles me until I realize, Of course. They think whoever set off the explosions is dead.

They don't know about the arrows and the apples. They assume the booby trap was faulty, but that the tribute who blew up the supplies was killed doing it. If there was a cannon shot, it could have been easily lost in the subsequent explosions. The shattered remains of the thief removed by hovercraft. They retire.

Night falls. Up in the sky, I see the seal and know the anthem must have begun. A moment of darkness. They show the boy from District 3. They show the boy from District 10, who must have died this morning. Then the seal reappears. So, now they know. The bomber survived. In the seal's light, I can see Cato and the girl from District 2 put on their night-vision glasses. The boy from District 1 ignites a tree branch for a torch, illuminating the grim determination on all their faces. The Careers stride back into the woods to hunt. The dizziness has subsided and while my left ear is still deafened, I can hear a ringing in my right, which seems a good sign.

I wonder about Rue. Where is she? At least i know she is alive. There are only eight of us left. They will be doing special features on each of us now. Interviewing friends and family. They probably are questioning our families trying to decipher the story, if we are really brother and sister. They will have no option but to come clean now.

I'm freezing. I make camp on the ground covering myself with leaves and pine needles the best i can.

As I wake up I hear a laugh somewhere near the lake and freeze. The laugh's distorted, but the fact that it registered at all means I must be regaining my hearing. Yes, my right ear can hear again, although it's still ringing. As for my left ear, well, at least the bleeding has stopped. I peer through the bushes, afraid the Careers have returned, trapping me here for an indefinite time. No, it's Fox face, standing in the rubble of the pyramid and laughing. She's smarter than the Careers, actually finding a few useful items in the ashes. A metal pot. A knife blade. I'm perplexed by her amusement until I realize that with the Careers' stores eliminated, she might actually stand a chance. She's heard something, not me, because her head turns away, toward the drop-off, and she sprints for the woods. I wait. No one, nothing shows up. Still, if Fox face thought it was dangerous, maybe it's time for me to get out of here, too. Besides, I'm eager to tell Rue about the pyramid.


	19. Chapter 19 Good bye

**Chapter Nineteen: Good bye**

I head through the woods making my way to the site of my first meeting with Rue. I can't adjust to the deafness in my left ear. It makes me feel blind on that side, off balance even. When I reach the site of our first meeting, I feel certain it's been undisturbed. There's no sign of Rue, not on the ground or in the trees. This is odd. By now she should have returned, as it's midday. Undoubtedly, she spent the night in a tree somewhere. And the third fire she was supposed to set - although I forgot to check for it last night - was the farthest from our site of all. She's probably just being cautious about making her way back. I wish she'd hurry, because I don't want to hang around here too long.

I wait and wait and Rue still doesn't show up. By late afternoon, I've resolved to go looking for her. I can at least visit the spot where she set the third fire and see if there are any clues to her whereabouts.

In less than an hour, I'm at the place where we agreed to have the third fire and I know something has gone amiss. The wood has been neatly arranged, expertly interspersed with tinder, but it has never been lit. Rue set up the fire but never made it back here. Somewhere between the second column of smoke I spied before I blew up the supplies and this point, she ran into trouble.

I have to remind myself she's still alive. Or is she? Could the cannon shot announcing her death have come in the wee hours of the morning when even my good ear was too broken to pick it up? Will she appear in the sky tonight? No, I refuse to believe it. There could be a hundred other explanations. She could have lost her way. Run into a pack of predators or another tribute, like Thresh, and had to hide. Whatever happened, I'm almost certain she's stuck out there, somewhere between the second fire and the unlit one at my feet. Something is keeping her up a tree.

That's when I hear it, Rue's four-note tune coming out of a mockingjay's mouth. The one that means she's all right. I grin and move in the direction of the bird. Another just a short distance ahead, picks up on the handful of notes. Rue has been singing to them, and recently. Otherwise they'd have taken up some other song. My eyes lift up into the trees, searching for a sign of her. I swallow and sing softly back, hoping she'll know it's safe to join me. A mockingjay repeats the melody to me. And that's when I hear the scream.

It's a child's scream, a young girl's scream, there's no one in the arena capable of making that sound except Rue. And now I'm running, knowing this may be a trap, knowing the three Careers may be poised to attack me, but I can't help myself. There's another high-pitched cry, this time my name. "Katniss! Katniss!"

"Rue!" I shout back, so she knows I'm near. So, they know I'm near, and hopefully the girl who has attacked them with tracker jackers and gotten an eleven they still can't explain will be enough to pull their attention away from her. "Rue! I'm coming!"

When I break into the clearing, she's on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net. She just has time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.

The boy from District 1 dies before he can pull out the spear. My arrow drives deeply into the center of his neck. He falls to his knees and halves the brief remainder of his life by yanking out the arrow and drowning in his own blood. I'm reloaded, shifting my aim from side to side, while I shout at Rue, "Are there more? Are there more?"

She has to say no several times before I hear it. Rue has rolled to her side, her body curved in and around the spear. I shove the boy away from her and pull out my knife, freeing her from the net. One look at the wound and I know it's far beyond my capacity to heal, beyond anyone's probably. The spearhead is buried up to the shaft in her stomach. I crouch before her, staring helplessly at the embedded weapon. There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.

"You blew up the food?" she whispers.

"Every last bit," I say.

"You have to win," she says.

"I'm going to. Going to win for both of us now," I promise. I hear a cannon and look up. It must be for the boy from District 1. "Don't go." Rue tightens her grip on my hand.

"Course not. Staying right here," I say. I move in closer to her, pulling her head onto my lap. I gently brush the dark, thick hair back behind her ear.

"Sing," she says, but I barely catch the word. Sing? I think. Sing what? I do know a few songs. Believe it or not, there was once music in my house, too. Music I helped make. My father pulled me in with that remarkable voice - but I haven't sung much since he died. Except when Prim is very sick. Then I sing her the same songs she liked as a baby.

The song that comes to me is a simple lullaby, one we sing fretful, hungry babies to sleep with, It's old, very old I think. Made up long ago in our hills. What my music teacher calls a mountain air. But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today. I give a small cough, swallow hard, and begin.

When I finish everything's still and quiet. Then, almost eerily, the mockingjays take up my song.

For a moment, I sit there, watching my tears drip down on her face. Rue's cannon fires. I lean forward and press my lips against her temple. Slowly, as if not to wake her, I lay her head back on the ground and release her hand. They'll want me to clear out now. So they can collect the bodies. And there's nothing to stay for. I roll the boy from District 1 onto his face and take his pack, retrieve the arrow that ended his life. I cut Rue's pack from her back as well, knowing she'd want me to have it but leave the spear in her stomach. Weapons in bodies will be transported to the hovercraft. I've no use for a spear, so the sooner it's gone from the arena the better.

I can't stop looking at Rue, smaller than ever, a baby animal curled up in a nest of netting. I can't bring myself to leave her like this. Past harm, but seeming utterly defenseless. To hate the boy from District 1, who also appears so vulnerable in death, seems inadequate. It's the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us.

I remember the secret meeting I ran into, how Haymitch made me promise not to say anything because if I did they would all die. I want the Capitol to die. I want president Snow and the Gamemakers to be in this arena and have to fight to the death. I'm shocked at myself.

Rue's death has forced me to confront my own fury against the cruelty, the injustice they inflict upon us. But here, even more strongly than at home, I feel my impotence. There's no way to take revenge on the Capitol. Is there? Then I remember Peeta's words on the roof. " _Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capital they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games._ " And for the first time, I understand what he means. I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a part of every tribute they can't own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I.

I remember Finnick saying that even after he won the games he was at the mercy of the Capitol. What are they doing to him still? I don't want to think about it. I just want it to stop. I want the Capitol to stop.

A few steps into the woods grows a bank of wildflowers. Perhaps they are really weeds of some sort, but they have blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white. I gather up an armful and come back to Rue's side. Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair with bright colors.

They'll have to show it. Or, even if they choose to turn the cameras elsewhere at this moment, they'll have to bring them back when they collect the bodies and everyone will see her then and know I did it. I step back and take a last look at Rue. She could really be asleep in that meadow after all.

"Bye, Rue," I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction. Then I walk away without looking back.

I've no idea where to go. The brief sense of home I had that one night with Rue has vanished. My feet wander this way and that until sunset. I'm not afraid, not even watchful. Which makes me an easy target. Except I'd kill anyone I met on sight. Without emotion or the slightest tremor in my hands. My hatred of the Capitol has not lessened my hatred of my competitors in the least.

I'm about to haul my packs into a tree to make camp when a silver parachute floats down and lands in front of me. A gift from a sponsor. But why now? I've been in fairly good shape with supplies. Maybe Haymitch's noticed my despondency and is trying to cheer me up a bit. Or could it be something to help my ear?

I open the parachute and find a small loaf of bread. It's not the fine white Capitol stuff. It's made of dark ration grain and shaped in a crescent. Sprinkled with seeds. This bread came from District 11.

I cautiously lift the still warm loaf. What must it have cost the people of District 11 who can't even feed themselves? How many would've had to do without to scrape up a coin to put in the collection for this one loaf?

It had been meant for Rue, surely. But instead of pulling the gift when she died, they'd authorized Haymitch to give it to me. As a thank-you? Or because, like me, they don't like to let debts go unpaid? For whatever reason, this is a first. A district gift to a tribute who's not your own.

I lift my face and step into the last falling rays of sunlight. "My thanks to the people of District Eleven," I say. I want them to know I know where it came from.

I climb dangerously high into a tree, not for safety but to get as far away from today as I can. My sleeping bag is rolled neatly in Rue's pack. Tomorrow I'll sort through the supplies. Tomorrow I'll make a new plan. But tonight, all I can do is strap myself in and take tiny bites of the bread. It's good. It tastes of home.

Soon the seal's in the sky, the anthem plays in my right ear. I see the boy from District 1, Rue. That's all for tonight. Six of us left, I think. Only six.

I wake up in the morning knowing I need a new plan but I've lost the will to do the simplest tasks. As usual, it's the thought of Prim's anxious face as she watches me on the screens back home that breaks me.

I give myself a series of simple commands to follow, like Now you have to sit up, Katniss. Now you have to drink water, Katniss." I act on the orders with slow, robotic motions. "Now you have to sort the packs, Katniss."

Rue's pack holds my sleeping bag, her nearly empty water skin, a handful of nuts and roots, a bit of rabbit, her extra socks, and her slingshot. The boy from District 1 has several knives, two spare spearheads, a flashlight, a small leather pouch, a first-aid kit, a full bottle of water, and a pack of dried fruit. A pack of dried fruit!

Speaking of which, my own supply is running low. I finish off the loaf from District 11 and the last of the rabbit.

How quickly the food disappears. All I have left are Rue's roots and nuts, the boy's dried fruit, and one strip of beef. Now you have to hunt, Katniss, I tell myself.

I obediently consolidate the supplies I want into my pack. I try and head back in the general direction of the stream. Shortly thereafter, I discover a flock of grooslings perched in the trees and take out three before they know what hit them. I return to Rue's signal fire and start it up, not caring about the excessive smoke. Where are you, Cato? I think as I roast the birds and Rue's roots. I'm waiting right here.

I find myself wishing I could tell Peeta about the flowers I put on Rue. That I now understand what he was trying to say on the roof. Perhaps if he wins the Games, he'll see me on victor's night, when they replay the highlights of the Games on a screen over the stage where we did our interviews.

But I told Rue I'd be there. For both of us. And somehow that seems even more important than the vow I gave Prim. And the talk I had with Finnick.

I really think I stand a chance of doing it now. Winning. It's not just having the arrows or outsmarting the Careers a few times, although those things help.

Something happened when I was holding Rue's hand, watching the life drain out of her. Now I am determined to revenge her, to make her loss unforgettable, and I can only do that by winning and thereby making myself unforgettable.

I think about Peeta. Maybe I should try to find him. But I don't. The further I stay from him now the easier it will be later. Part of me wants to tell him I'm happy I found out he's my brother even if it only for a short time.

I keep seeing Rue speared, my arrow piercing the boy's neck. I don't know why I should even care about the boy. Then I realize . . . he was my first kill. The boy from District 1 was the first person I knew would die because of my actions. Numerous animals have lost their lives at my hands, but only one human. I hear Gale saying, _"How different can it be, really?"_

Amazingly similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. Entirely different in the aftermath. I killed a boy whose name I don't even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood.

But then I think of Rue's still body and I'm able to banish the boy from my mind. At least, for now.

It's been an uneventful day according to the sky. No deaths. I cover my good ear to block out the strains of the anthem, but then I hear the trumpets and sit straight up in anticipation.

For the most part, the only communication the tributes get from outside the arena is the nightly death toll. But occasionally, there will be trumpets followed by an announcement. Usually, this will be a call to a feast. When food is scarce, the Gamemakers will invite the players to a banquet, somewhere known to all like the Cornucopia, as an inducement to gather and fight.

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms down from overhead, congratulating the six of us who remain. But he is not inviting us to a feast. He's saying something very confusing. There's been a rule change in the Games.

A rule change! That in itself is mind bending since we don't really have any rules to speak of except don't step off your circle for sixty seconds and the unspoken rule about not eating one another. Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive.

The news sinks in. Two tributes can win this year. If they're from the same district. Both can live. Both of us can live.


	20. Chapter 20 Peeta

**Chapter Twenty: Peeta**

Before I can stop myself, I call out Peetas name. I clap my hands over my mouth, but the sound has already escaped. The sky goes black and I hear a chorus of frogs begin to sing. Stupid! I tell myself.

Peeta, who's been wounded, is now my ally. I can go home with Peeta and learn more about our families together. I have to find him.

In fact, I know if I was watching I'd loathe any tribute who didn't immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. And in my case - being one of the Estranged siblings from District 12 - it's an absolute requirement if I want any more help from sympathetic sponsors.

Stay put and get some sleep, Katniss, I instruct myself, although I wish I could start tracking Peeta now.

Tomorrow, you'll find him.

It's still dark out when I decide I can't sleep anymore. I put on my night vision glasses and pack up my stuff. I eat some of the meat I cooked yesterday.

Today I'll have to be scrupulously careful. The Careers will know I'm trying to locate Peeta. They may well want to wait until I do before they move in. If he's as badly wounded as Cato thinks, I'd be in the position of having to defend us both without any assistance. But if he's that incapacitated, how has he managed to stay alive? And how on earth will I find him?

I remember Rue said he ran towards the stream. I head in that direction.

I make it to the stream and walk in the water so to don't leave any tracks. The waters cool and pleasant on my bare feet as I head downstream. I'm tempted to call out Peeta's name as I go but decide against it. I will have to find him with my eyes and one good ear or he will have to find me. But he'll know I'll be looking, right?

It doesn't take long to reach the spot where I peeled off to go the Careers' camp. There's been no sign of Peeta, but this doesn't surprise me. I've been up and down this stretch three times since the tracker jacker incident. If he were nearby, surely I'd have had some suspicion of it. The stream begins to curve to the left into a part of the woods that's new to me. Muddy banks covered in tangled water plants lead to large rocks that increase in size until I begin to feel somewhat trapped. It would be no small matter to escape the stream now. Fighting off Cato or Thresh as I climbed over this rocky terrain. In fact, I've just about decided I'm on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak going down the curve of a boulder. It's long dried now, but the smeary lines running side to side suggest someone - who perhaps was not fully in control of his mental faculties - tried to wipe it away.

Hugging the rocks, I move slowly in the direction of the blood, searching for him. I find a few more bloodstains, one with a few threads of fabric glued to it, but no sign of life. I break down and say his name in a hushed voice.

"Peeta! Peeta!" Then a mockingjay lands on a scruffy tree and begins to mimic my tones so I stop. I give up and climb back down to the stream thinking, He must have moved on. Somewhere farther down.

My foot has just broken the surface of the water when I hear a voice.

"You here to finish me off, little sis?"

I whip around. It's come from the left, so I can't pick it up very well. And the voice was hoarse and weak. Still, I know it was Peeta. Who else in the arena would call me little sis? My eyes peruse the bank, but there's nothing. Just mud, the plants, the base of the rocks.

"Peeta?" I whisper. "Where are you?" There's no answer.

Could I just have imagined it? No, I'm certain it was real and very close at hand, too. "Peeta?" I creep along the bank.

"Well, don't step on me."

I jump back. His voice was right under my feet. Still there's nothing. Then his eyes open, unmistakably blue in the brown mud and green leaves. I gasp and am rewarded with a hint of white teeth as he laughs.

It's the final word in camouflage. Forget chucking weights around. Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree. Or a boulder. Or a muddy bank full of weeds.

"Close your eyes again," I order. He does, and his mouth, too, and completely disappears. Most of what I judge to be his body is actually under a layer of mud and plants.

His face and arms are so artfully disguised as to be invisible. I kneel beside him. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."

Peeta smiles. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying."

"You're not going to die," I tell him firmly.

"Says who?" His voice is so ragged.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know," I tell him.

His eyes open. "So, I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."

I pull out my water bottle and give him a drink. "Did Cato cut you?" I ask.

"Left leg. Up high," he answers.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got," I say.

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers.

"Remember, I'm older than you so I'm in charge" he tells me and I really feel like he's my brother. I jerk my head back but end up laughing.

"I'll keep it in mind." At least, he's still able to joke around.

But when I start to help him to the stream, all the levity disappears. It's only two feet away, how hard can it be?

Very hard when I realize he's unable to move an inch on his own. He's so weak that the best he can do is not to resist. I try to drag him, but despite the fact that I know he's doing all he can to keep quiet, sharp cries of pain escape him. The mud and plants seem to have imprisoned him and I finally have to give a gigantic tug to break him from their clutches. He's still two feet from the water, lying there, teeth gritted, tears cutting trails in the dirt on his face.

"Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?" I say.

"Excellent," he says.

I crouch down beside him. No matter what happens, I tell myself, don't stop until he's in the water. "On three," I say. "One, two, three!" I can only manage one full roll before I have to stop because of the horrible sound he's making. Now he's on the edge of the stream. Maybe this is better anyway. "Okay, change of plans. I'm not going to put you all the way in," I tell him. Besides, if I get him in, who knows if

I'd ever be able to get him out?

"No more rolling?" he asks.

"That's all done. Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?" I say. It's hard to know where to start. He so caked with mud and matted leaves, I can't even see his clothes. If he's wearing clothes. The thought makes me hesitate a moment, but then I plunge in. Naked bodies are no big deal in the arena, right?

I've got two water bottles and Rue's water skin. I prop them against rocks in the stream so that two are always filling while I pour the third over Peeta's body. It takes a while, but I finally get rid of enough mud to find his clothes. I gently unzip his jacket, unbutton his shirt and ease them off him. His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose. He's badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings, if you count the one under his ear. But I feel a bit better.

This much I can fix. I decide to take care of his upper body first, to alleviate some pain, before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg.

Since treating his wounds seems pointless when he's lying in what's become a mud puddle, I manage to prop him up against a boulder. He sits there, uncomplaining, while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin. His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky. I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps, which causes him to wince, but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief. While he dries in the sun, I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders. Then I apply the burn cream to his chest. This is when I notice how hot his skin is becoming. The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that he's burning with fever. I dig through the first-aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature. My mother actually breaks down and buys these on occasion when her home remedies fail.

"Swallow these," I tell him, and he obediently takes the medicine. "You must be hungry."

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days," says Peeta. In fact, when I offer him groosling, he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away. That's when I know how sick he is.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you," I insist.

"It'll just come right back up," he says. The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple. "Thanks. I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?" he asks.

"Soon," I promise. "I need to look at your leg first."

Trying to be as gentle as I can, I remove his boots, his socks, and then very slowly inch his pants off of him. I can see the tear Cato's sword made in the fabric over his thigh, but it in no way prepares me for what lies underneath. The deep inflamed gash oozing both blood and pus. The swelling of the leg. And worst of all, the smell of festering flesh.

I want to run away. Disappear into the woods like I did that day they brought the burn victim to our house. Go and hunt while my mother and Prim attend to what I have neither the skill nor the courage to face. But there's no one here but me. I try to capture the calm demeanor my mother assumes when handling particularly bad cases.

"Pretty awful, huh?" says Peeta. He's watching me closely.

"So-so." I shrug like it's no big deal. "You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines." I refrain from saying how I usually clear out of the house whenever she's treating anything worse than a cold. "First thing is to clean it well."

I've left on Peeta's undershorts because they're not in bad shape and I don't want to pull them over the swollen thigh and, all right, maybe the idea of him being naked makes me uncomfortable. That's another thing about my mother and Prim. Nakedness has no effect on them.

Ironically, at this point in the Games, my little sister would be of far more use to Peeta than I am. I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him. With each bottle I pour over him, the worse the wound looks. The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well, just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly. But the gash on his leg . . . what on earth can I do for that?

"Why don't we give it some air and then . . ." I trail off.

"And then you'll patch it up?" says Peeta. He looks almost sorry for me, as if he knows how lost I am.

"That's right," I say. "In the meantime, you eat these." I put a few dried pear halves in his hand and go back in the stream to wash the rest of his clothes. When they're flattened out and drying, I examine the contents of the first-aid kit. It's pretty basic stuff. Bandages, fever pills, medicine to calm stomachs. Nothing of the caliber I'll need to treat Peeta.

"We're going to have to experiment some," I admit. I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection, so I start with those. Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed-up green stuff into the wound, pus begins running down the side of his leg. I tell myself this is a good thing and bite the inside of my cheek hard because my breakfast is threatening to make a reappearance.

"Something wrong?" he asks a little too innocently.

"I . . . I'm no good at this. I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus," I say. "Euh!" I allow myself to let out a groan as I rinse away the first round of leaves and apply the second. "Euuuh!"

"How do you hunt?" he asks. "Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire, squeamish." he laughs.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this," I say. "Although for all I know, I am killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?" he asks.

"No. Shut up and eat your pears," I say.

"When you get home, hug my- our brothers for me and tell them I love them."

"No! you are coming home with me and that's final. Understand?!"

"I thought I was in charge." he laughs

"Not when your making no sense. Get better and I might, might let you be in charge."

After three applications and what seems like a bucket of pus, the wound does look better. Now that the swelling

has gone down, I can see how deep Cato's sword cut. Right down to the bone.

"What next, Dr. Everdeen?" he asks.

"Maybe I'll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?" I say. I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in clean white cotton. Although, against the

sterile bandage, the hem of his undershorts looks filthy and teeming with contagion. I pull out Rue's backpack.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts."

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," says Peeta.

"You're just like the rest of my family," I say. "I care, all right?" I turn my back and look at the stream until the undershorts splash into the current. He must be feeling a bit better if he can throw.

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," says Peeta as I beat the shorts clean between two rocks. "I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

I wrinkle my nose at the memory. "What's he sent you so far?"

"Not a thing," says Peeta. Then there's a pause as it hits him. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," I say almost sheepishly. "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favorite," says Peeta.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me," I say.

"Because you're just alike," mutters Peeta. I ignore it though because this really isn't the time for me to be insulting Haymitch, which is my first impulse.

I let Peeta doze off while his clothes dry out, but by late afternoon, I don't dare wait any longer. I gently shake his shoulder. "Peeta, we've got to go now."

"Go?" He seems confused. "Go where?"

"Away from here. Downstream maybe. Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger," I say. I help him dress, leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him upright. His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg. "Come on. You can do this."

But he can't. Not for long anyway. We make it about fifty yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and I can tell he's going to black out. I sit him on the bank, push his head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area. Of course, I'd love to get him up in a tree, but that's not going to happen. It could be worse though. Some of the rocks form small cavelike structures. I set my sights on one about twenty yards above the stream. When Peeta's able to stand, I half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. Really, I'd like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to do because my ally is shot. Paper white, panting, and, even though it's only just cooling off, he's shivering.

I cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles, unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. I get a couple of pills and some water into him when he's not noticing, but he refuses to eat even the fruit. Then he just lies there, his eyes trained on my face as I build a sort of blind out of vines to conceal the mouth of the cave. The result is unsatisfactory. An animal might not question it, but a human would see hands had manufactured it quickly enough. I tear it down in frustration.

"Katniss," he says. I go over to him and brush the hair back from his eyes. "Thanks for finding me."

"You would have found me if you could," I say. His forehead's burning up. Like the medicine's having no effect at all. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm scared he's going to die.

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back -" he begins.

"Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," I say.

"I know. But just in case I don't -" he tries to continue.

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," I say, placing my fingers on his lips to quiet him.

"But I don't want something to happen to you if your protecting me. I'm supposed to be protecting you." he insists.

"You did. You saved me from Cato. Now it's my turn to protect you"

He shakes his head.

"You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"

"All right," he whispers.

I step out in the cool evening air just as the parachute floats down from the sky. My fingers quickly undo the tie, hoping for some real medicine to treat Peeta's leg.

Instead I find a pot of hot broth.

Haymitch couldn't be sending me a clearer message "Give me something I can work with!" And I know this whole time Peeta has been protecting his sister. What have I done?

And he's right. If I want to keep Peeta alive, I've got to give the audience something more to care about.

Brother and sister. Desperate to get home together. I know what I need to do. I need to make the story unforgettable.

"Peeta!" I say.

He's dozed off again, but I nudge him awake, which seems to startle him.

I hold up the pot. "Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you."


	21. Chapter 21 Cave

**We learn some interesting things in this chapter. I'm ready for the games to get over though and see the reunion between Katniss and Finnick =]**

 **Chapter Twenty One: Cave**

Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night.

I put on my glasses, place my weapons in readiness, and settle down to keep watch.

The temperature drops rapidly and soon I'm chilled to the bone. Eventually, I give in and slide into the sleeping bag with Peeta. It's toasty warm and I snuggle down gratefully until I realize it's more than warm, it's overly hot because the bag is reflecting back his fever. I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don't know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead. It seems weak, but I'm afraid to do anything too drastic.

I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage, and trying not to dwell on the fact that by teaming up with him, I've made myself far more vulnerable than when I was alone. Tethered to the ground, on guard, with a very sick person to take care of. But he's family. Would I leave Prim out to die? It still not the same only having found out what a week ago?

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I'm just going to have to trust that whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. I take a look at Peeta, who am I kidding? I would do anything to help him. He is my brother and I love him already.

When the sky turns rosy, I notice the sheen of sweat on Peeta's lip and discover the fever has broken. He's not back to normal, but it's come down a few degrees. Last night, when I was gathering vines, I came upon a bush of Rue's berries. I strip off the fruit and mash it up in the broth pot with cold water.

Peeta's struggling to get up when I reach the cave. "I woke up and you were gone," he says. "I was worried about you."

I have to laugh as I ease him back down. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

"I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night," he says, still serious.

"Clove? Which one is that?" I ask.

"The girl from District Two. She's still alive, right?" he says.

"Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Fox face," I say. "That's what I nicknamed the girl from Five. How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud," he says. "Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag."

We get him propped up against the wall and he obediently swallows the spoonfuls of the berry mush I feed him. He refuses the groosling again, though.

"You didn't sleep," Peeta says.

"I'm all right," I say. But the truth is, I'm exhausted.

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens," he says. I hesitate. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever."

He's got a point there. I'll have to sleep eventually. And probably better to do it now when he seems relatively alert and we have daylight on our side. "All right," I say. "But just for a few hours. Then you wake me."

It's too warm for the sleeping bag now. I smooth it out on the cave floor and lie down, one hand on my loaded bow in case I have to shoot at a moment's notice. Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. "Go to sleep," he says softly.

Too long. I sleep too long. I know from the moment I open my eyes that we're into the afternoon. Peeta's right beside me, his position unchanged. I sit up, feeling somehow defensive but better rested than I've been in days.

"Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours," I say.

"For what? Nothing's going on here," he says. "When you don't scowl it improves your looks a lot."

This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin. That's when I notice how dry his lips are. I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he's been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement. I steel myself and unwrap the leg.

My heart drops into my stomach. It's worse, much worse. There's no more pus in evidence, but the swelling has increased and the tight shiny skin is inflamed. Then I see the red streaks starting to crawl up his leg. Blood poisoning. Unchecked, it will kill him for sure. My chewed-up leaves and ointment won't make a dent in it.

We'll need strong anti-infection drugs from the Capitol. I can't imagine the cost of such potent medicine. If Haymitch pooled every donation from every sponsor, would he have enough? I doubt it. Gifts go up in price the longer the Games continue. What buys a full meal on day one buys a cracker on day twelve. And the kind of medicine Peeta needs would have been at a premium from the beginning.

"Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone," I say in an unsteady voice.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss," says Peeta. "Even if my mother isn't a healer."

"You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win," I say.

"Yes, that's a good plan," he says. But I feel this is mostly for my benefit.

"You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup," I say.

"Don't light a fire," he says. "It's not worth it."

I make a soup by sitting the pot on the hot rocks in the sun. When I come back Peeta's stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks.

"Do you want anything?" I ask.

"No," he says. "Thank you."

"Peeta?" I ask him quietly. Sitting down next to him.

"Yeah?"

"How did you feel when you found out about me?"

He thinks for a moment. "I felt a lot of things. Mad at my dad for keeping it a secret. Mad that he chose that moment to tell me. Mad that he cheated on my mom but I can't really blame him. Mad that he didn't tell you."

"That's a lot of anger."

"As I recall you were mad too."

"I was." I recall the night if the interviews. "I was mad at you for airing it on tv. Mad at my mom for not telling me. Mad that your dad never told me. My dad." I correct myself. "Confused that the man I believed was my father all these years wasn't. It took Fi.. Um someone to tell me that it didn't change that he was my father he still raised me and loved me." I'm not sure if I should say Finnicks name or not. I'm sure the cameras are watching us right now.

"I was never mad that you were my sister though." He clarifies. "you know that right?"

I nod, "Just like I'm not mad that you are my brother."

"I always knew I had some kind if connection to you. I just never knew what it was. I used to watch you at school. I always wanted to talk to you but never did, fearing my mother."

"Well I guess I know why she hated me so much ."

"I think she was jealous that my father loved your mother. Her sister. When he doesn't love her."

"They don't love each other?" I always remember my parents being in love. Then when my father died my mother just stopped living. I had to take over as provider.

"I think they do in some ways, but their not in love, if you know what I mean. My father loved your mother, she was the love of his life. He was forced to marry my mother. She knew he didn't want to marry her when they got married, but she went through with it anyways. She knew that they saw each other secretly for at least 3 years too. She knew you were his daughter too. My father tries to make her happy. He gave her three children. She doesn't show a lot of love to us." he shakes his head remembering something, but he doesn't voice it. "You mother realized she could never marry my father so she accepted it and fell in love again."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Well I learned a little bit here and there. When I was little my father pointed you out to me and told me that he had wanted to marry your mother. You were born almost four years after my parents were married. Your mother got married shortly after she got pregnant. I didn't know our mothers were sisters until that day in the bakery, you were there." I nod, and he continues, "I don't think they have spoken since for a long time."

"I can't imagine never speaking to Prim again, or even you for that matter."

"Well I don't think we are in danger of falling in love with the same guy." We both laugh.

"You never know, he is pretty charming." I say quietly hoping the cameras don't here.

"Do you love him?"

"I don't really know him that well."

"I didn't ask if you knew him well, I asked if you loved him."

I can feel myself blush, I've never felt like this about anyone, "I think so.." I say so quietly I'm not sure if he even heard me. I miss him. I've tried not to think about him. I just imagine myself dying before I even get a chance to know him.

"Well he better be good to you, or else he'll have to deal with me."

I raise my eye brows ar him and laugh, "I just realized that I have two more brothers. What am I going to do with three of you? I can barely handle you." I joke

He laughs, "Rye and Nate aren't going to know what to do with you."

"Is Prim?" I ask him.

"I don't think so. I mean she is your sister, but I don't think she is mine." he started garbling his words together at the end.

I felt his head, his fever is definetly getting worse, not better. It scares me, but I tell him, "Feels cooler."

He just nods.

The sound of the trumpets startles me. I'm on my feet and at the mouth of the cave in a flash, not wanting to miss a syllable. It's my new best friend, Claudius Templesmith, and as I expected, he's inviting us to a feast. Well, we're not that hungry and I actually wave his offer away in indifference when he says, "Now all of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." I do need something desperately. Something to heal Peeta's leg.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance," says Claudius.

There's nothing else, just his words hanging in the air.

 _I have to be there!_


	22. Chapter 22 Sleep Syrup

**Chapter Twenty Two: Sleep Syrup**

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. "No," he says. "You're not risking your life for me."

"Who said I was?" I say.

"So, you're not going?" he asks.

"Of course, I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid," I say,helping him back to bed. "I'll let them fight it out, we'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there."

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "You're a little cooler. Of course, I'm not going" He shakes his head "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

Anger flushes my face. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!"

"I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure," he says.

"You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg," I say.

"Then I'll drag myself," says Peeta. "You go and I'm going, too."

"If there is something I can do to save you, I am going to do it." I tell him

"You don't have to save me." he says.

"You have saved me more than once." I tell him, "You saved me by throwing me that bread that time, and all the times bread just showed up during the winters, and you saved me from Cato. In fact that is how you got this way."

"Your not responsible for me!"

"Peeta I will never live with myself if I could have saved you and I didn't and you died. I'm going, and your staying here." I tell him with finality.

He is shaking his head, "I'm older than you, and I am telling you, you are not to go."

"By what, 11 months? It doesn't work that way sorry." I say with sarcasm.

"You go and I'm going, too." he repeats.

He's just stubborn enough and maybe just strong enough to do it. Come howling after me in the woods. Even if a tribute doesn't find him, something else might. He can't defend himself. I'd probably have to wall him up in the cave just to go myself. And who knows what the exertion will do to him?

"What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?" I say. He must know that's not an option. That the audience would hate me. And frankly, I would hate myself, too, if I didn't even try.

"I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go," he says.

We're at something of a stalemate. I know I can't argue him out of this one, so I don't try. I pretend, reluctantly, to go along. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup no matter how disgusting it is!" I snap at him.

"Agreed. Is it ready?" he asks.

"Wait here," I say. The air's gone cold even though the sun's still up. I'm right about the Gamemakers messing with the temperature. I wonder if the thing someone needs desperately is a good blanket. The soup is still nice and warm in its iron pot. And actually doesn't taste too bad.

When I get back Peeta reaches for the bowl. He starts eating, "What bread?"

I start to think he's delirious with fever. "What do you mean?"

"You said something about bread on your door step?" he asks.

"Oh, every once in a while I would find a bundle of bread from the bakery on the door step. Especially in the winter. Thank you. It helped a lot." The timing always seemed to be when we were in the worst way.

He shakes his head, "I didn't leave bread on your doorstep. If I had thought about it I would have but it wasn't me."

That surprises me, who would have left it? Then it hits me. Peeta's father. My father.

Peeta finishes eating without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, which should be encouraging if you don't know what fever does to people. He's like listening to Haymitch before the alcohol has soaked him into incoherence. I give him another dose of fever medicine before he goes off his head completely.

As I go down to the stream to wash up, all I can think is that he's going to die if I don't get to that feast. I'll keep him going for a day or two, and then the infection will reach his heart or his brain or his lungs and he'll be gone. And I'll be here all alone. Again. Waiting for the others. I'm so lost in thought that I almost miss the parachute, even though it floats right by me. Then I spring after it,yanking it from the water, tearing off the silver fabric to retrieve the vial. Haymitch has done it! He's gotten the medicine - I don't know how, and I can save Peeta! It's such a tiny vial though. It must be very strong to cure someone as ill as Peeta. A ripple of doubt runs through me. I uncork the vial and take a deep sniff. My spirits fall at the sickly sweet scent. Just to be sure, I place a drop on the tip of my tongue. There's no question, it's sleep syrup. It's a common medicine in District 12. Cheap, as medicine goes, but very addictive. Almost everyone's had a dose at one time or another. We have some in a bottle at home. My mother gives it to hysterical patients to knock them out to stitch up a bad wound or quiet their minds or just to help someone in pain get through the night. It only takes a little. A vial this size could knock Peeta out for a full day, but what good is that? I'm so furious I'm about to throw Haymitch's last offering into the stream when it hits me.

A full day? That's more than I need. I mash up a handful of berries so the taste won't be as noticeable and add some mint leaves for good measure I head back up to the cave. "I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little farther down stream."

Peeta opens his mouth for the first bite without hesitation. He swallows then frowns slightly. "They're very sweet."

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" I say, poking the next spoonful in his mouth.

"No," he says, almost puzzled. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," I say. Another mouthful goes down. Just one more to go.

"They're sweet as syrup," he says, taking the last spoonful. "Syrup." His eyes widen as he realizes the truth. I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard,forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it's too late, he's already losing consciousness. Even as he fades away, I can see in his eyes what I've done is unforgivable.

I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. "Who can't lie, Peeta?" I say, even though he can't hear me.

It doesn't matter. The rest of Panem can. In the remaining hours before nightfall, I gather rocks and do my best to camouflage the opening of the cave. It's a slow and arduous process, but after a lot of sweating and shifting things around, I'm pretty pleased with my work, The cave now appears to be part of a larger pile of rocks, like so many in the vicinity. I can still crawl in to Peeta through a small opening, but it's undetectable from the outside. That's good, because I'll need to share that sleeping bag again tonight. Also, if I don't make it back from the feast, Peeta will be hidden but not entirely imprisoned. Although I doubt he can hang on much longer without medicine. If I die at the feast, District 12 isn't likely to have a victor.

I make a meal out of the smaller, bonier fish that inhabit the stream down here, fill every water container and purify it, and clean my weapons. I've nine arrows left in all. I debate leaving the knife with Peeta so he'll have some protection while I'm gone, but there's really no point. He was right about camouflage being his final defense. But I still might have use for the knife. Who knows what I'll encounter? Here are some things I'm fairly certain of. That at least Cato, Clove, and Thresh will be on hand when the feast starts. I'm not sure about Foxface since direct confrontation isn't her style or her forte. She's even smaller than I am and unarmed, unless she's picked up some weapons recently.

My ability to kill at a distance is my greatest asset, but I know I'll have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack, the one with the number 12 on it that Claudius Templesmith mentioned. I watch the sky, hoping for one less opponent at dawn, but nobody appears tonight. Tomorrow there will be faces up there. Feasts always result in fatalities.

I try not to, but I can't help thinking of my mother and Prim, wondering if they'll sleep a wink tonight. At this late stage in the Games, with an important event like the feast, school will probably be canceled. My family can either watch on that static-filled old clunker of a television at home or join the crowds in the square to watch on the big, clear screens, They'll have privacy at home but support in the square. People will give them a kind word, a bit of food if they can spare it. I wonder if the baker, my father has sought them out, especially now that Peeta and I are a team, and made good on his promise to keep my sister's belly full.

I think about Finnick. I wish he was here with me. As soon as I think it I banish the thought. I wouldn't want anyone I love with me, I even wish Peeta didn't have to be in the arena with me. I wonder if Finnick is cheering me on? Does he want me to go to the feast?

Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I'm going.


	23. Chapter 23 Feast

**I got a lot done today. But a lot of it didn't need much changing. Don't expect this many chapters regularly, today was my day off work so I pretty much spent the whole day on here. Hardly anything here has changed. Except what Katniss says to Peeta before she leaves, and Clove referring to him as her brother. So if you want to skip this chapter it's a good one to skip.**

 **Chapter Twenty Three: Feast**

At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I begin final preparations. I'm careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of much use if I don't return, and even these would only prolong his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own. He doesn't need it. Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I'm not there to remove it, he'll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff from cold, so I take Rue's spare pair of socks, cut holes for my fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway.

I fill her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages, tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I'm about to leave when I remember the audience.

"If I come back Peeta, we can go home together. If I don't come back, I love you, and I'm sorry." I blink my eyes not letting the tears fall.

Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.I move as fast as I dare. The glasses are quite remarkable, but I still sorely miss having the use of my left ear. I don't know what the explosion did, but it damaged something deep and irreparable. Never mind. If I get home, I'll be so stinking rich, I'll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.

I secure myself in the same hiding place from where I blew up the food. I see no sign of another tribute. Either I'm the first to arrive or the others positioned themselves last night. I still have at least an hour to wait. Thank goodness, I have Peeta's jacket as well as my own. If not, I'd be forced to move around to stay warm. The sky turns a misty morning gray and still there's no sign of the other tributes. It's not surprising really. Everyone has distinguished themselves either by strength or deadliness or cunning. Do they suppose, I wonder, that I have Peeta with me? I doubt Fox face and Thresh even know he was wounded. All the better if they think he's covering me when I go in for the backpack.

But where is it? The arena has lightened enough for me to remove my glasses. I can hear the morning birds singing. Isn't it time? For a second, I'm panicked that I'm at the wrong location. But no, I'm certain I remember Claudius Templesmith specifying the Cornucopia. And there it is. And here I am. So where's my feast?

Just as the first ray of sun glints off the gold Cornucopia, there's a disturbance on the plain. The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a snowy white cloth rises into the arena. On the table sit four backpacks, two large black ones with the numbers 2 and 11,a medium-size green one with the number 5, and a tiny orange one - really I could carry it around my wrist - that must be marked with a 12.

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! Leave it to her to come up with such a clever and risky idea! The rest of us are still poised around the plain, sizing up the situation, and she's got hers. She's got us trapped, too, because no one wants to chase her down, not while their own pack sits so vulnerable on the table. Foxface must have purposefully left the other packs alone, knowing that to steal one without her number would definitely bring on a pursuer.

Anyone who beats me to it will easily scoop up my pack and be gone. Without hesitation, I sprint for the table. I can sense the emergence of danger before I see it. Fortunately, the first knife comes whizzing in on my right side so I can hear it and I'm able to deflect it with my bow. I turn, drawing back the bowstring and send an arrow straight at Clove's heart. She turns just enough to avoid a fatal hit, but the point punctures her upper left arm.

Unfortunately, she throws with her right, but it's enough to slow her down a few moments, having to pull the arrow from her arm, take in the severity of the wound. I keep moving, positioning the next arrow automatically, as only someone who has hunted for years can do. I'm at the table now, my fingers closing over the tiny orange backpack. My hand slips between the straps and I yank it up on my arm, it's really too small to fit on any other part of my anatomy, and I'm turning to fire again when the second knife catches me in the forehead. It slices above my right eyebrow, opening a gash thatsends a gush running down my face, blinding my eye, filling my mouth with the sharp, metallic taste of my own blood. I stagger backward but still manage to send my readied arrow in the general direction of my assailant. I know as it leaves my hands it will miss. And then Clove slams into me, knocking me flat on my back, pinning my shoulders to the ground, with her knees.

This is it, I think, and hope for Prim's sake it will be fast. But Clove means to savor the moment. Even feels she has time. No doubt Cato is somewhere nearby, guarding her, waiting for Thresh and possibly Peeta.

"Where's your brother, District Twelve? Still hanging on?" she asks.

Well, as long as we're talking I'm alive. "He's out there now. Hunting Cato," I snarl at her. Then I scream at the top of my lungs. "Peeta!"

Clove jams her fist into my windpipe, very effectively cutting off my voice. But her head's whipping from side to side, and I know for a moment she's at least considering I'm telling the truth. Since no Peeta appears to save me, she turns back to me.

"Liar," she says with a grin. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine? Too bad he'll never get it."

Clove opens her jacket. It's lined with an impressive array of knives. She carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number with a cruel, curved blade. "I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show."

I'm struggling now in an effort to unseat her, but it's no use. She's too heavy and her lock on me too tight.

"Forget it, District Twelve. We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally . . . what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of your beloved brother. How does that sound?"

Clove asks. "Now, where to start?" She carelessly wipes away the blood from my wound with her jacket sleeve. For a moment, she surveys my face, tilting it from side to side as if it's a block of wood and she's deciding exactly what pattern to carve on it. I attempt to bite her hand, but she grabs the hair on the top of my head, forcing me back to the ground. "I think .. ." she almost purrs. "I think we'll start with your mouth." I clamp my teeth together as she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade.

I won't close my eyes. The comment about Rue has filled me with fury, enough fury I think to die with some dignity. As my last act of defiance, I will stare her down as long as I can see, which will probably not be an extended period of time, but I will stare her down, I will not cry out. I will die, in my own small way, undefeated.

"Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore." she asks, I work up a mouthful of blood and saliva and spit it in her face.

She flushes with rage. "All right then. Let's get started."

I brace myself for the agony that's sure to follow. But as I feel the tip open the first cut at my lip, some great form yanks Clove from my body and then she's screaming. I'm too stunned at first, too unable to process what has happened. Has Peeta somehow come to my rescue? Have the Gamemakers sent in some wild animal to add to the fun? Has a hovercraft inexplicably plucked her into the air?

But when I push myself up on my numb arms, I see it's none of the above. Clove is dangling a foot off the ground, imprisoned in Thresh's arms. I let out a gasp, seeing him like that, towering over me, holding Clove like a rag doll. I remember him as big, but he seems more massive, more powerful than I even recall. If anything, he seems to have gained weight in the arena. He flips Clove around and flings her onto the ground. When he shouts, I jump, never having heard him speak above a mutter. "What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" Clove is scrambling backward on all fours, like a frantic insect, too shocked to even call for Cato. "No! No, it wasn't me!"

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" Another thought brings a fresh wave of rage to his features. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

"No! No, I -" Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh's hand and loses it. "Cato!" she screeches. "Cato!"

"Clove!" I hear Cato's answer, but he's too far away, I can tell that much, to do her any good. What was he doing? Trying to get Fox face or Peeta? Or had he been lying in wait for Thresh and just badly misjudged his location?

Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove's temple. It's not bleeding, but I can see the dent in her skull and I know that she's a goner. There's still life in her now though, in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the low moan escaping her lips.

When Thresh whirls around on me, the rock raised, I know it's no good to run. And my bow is empty, the last loaded arrow having gone in Clove's direction. I'm trapped in the glare of his strange golden brown eyes.

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?"

"I - I - we teamed up. Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first. District One," I say. Maybe if he knows I helped Rue, he won't choose some slow, sadistic end for me.

"And you killed him?" he demands.

"Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers," I say. "And I sang her to sleep." Tears spring in my eyes. The tension, the fight goes out of me at the memory. And I'm overwhelmed by Rue, and the pain in my head, and my fear of Thresh, and the moaning of the dying girl a few feet away.

"To sleep?" Thresh says gruffly.

"To death. I sang until she died," I say. "Your district. . .they sent me bread." My hand reaches up but not for an arrow that I know I'll never reach. Just to wipe my nose. "Do it fast, okay, Thresh?"

Conflicting emotions cross Thresh's face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. "Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?"

I nod because I do understand. About owing. About hating it. I understand that if Thresh wins, he'll have to go back and face a district that has already broken all the rules to thank me, and he is breaking the rules to thank me, too. And I understand that, for the moment, Thresh is not going to smash in my skull.

"Clove!" Cato's voice is much nearer now. I can tell by the pain in it that he sees her on the ground.

"You better run now, Fire Girl," says Thresh.

I don't need to be told twice. I flip over and my feet dip into the hard-packed earth as I run away from Thresh and Clove and the sound of Cato's voice. Only when I reach the woods do I turn back for an instant. Thresh and both large backpacks are vanishing over the edge of the plain into the area I've never seen. Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. In a moment, he will realize it's futile, she can't be saved. I crash into the trees, repeatedly swiping away the blood that's pouring into my eye, fleeing like the wild, wounded creature I am. After a few minutes, I hear the cannon and I know that Clove has died, that Cato will be on one of our trails. Either Thresh's or mine. I'm seized with terror, weak from my head wound, shaking. I load an arrow, but Cato can throw that spear almost as far as I can shoot.

Only one thing calms me down. Thresh has Cato's backpack containing the thing he needs desperately. If I had to bet, Cato headed out after Thresh, not me. Still I don't slow down when I reach the water. I plunge right in, boots still on, and flounder downstream. I pull off Rue's socks that I've been using for gloves and press them into my forehead, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but they're soaked in minutes.

Somehow I make it back to the cave. I squeeze through the rocks. In the dappled light, I pull the little orange backpack from my arm, cut open the clasp, and dump the contents on the ground. One slim box containing one hypodermic needle. Without hesitating, I jam the needle into Peeta's arm and slowly press down on the plunger.


	24. Chapter 24 Healed

**Chapter Twenty Four:**

My hands go to my head and then drop to my lap, slick with blood. The sound of rain drumming on the roof of our house gently pulls me toward consciousness. I fight to return to sleep though, wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets, safe at home. I'm vaguely aware that my head aches.

I'm not sure how long I sleep.

"Katniss," it says. "Katniss, can you hear me?"

"Peeta."

"Hey," he says. "Good to see your eyes again."

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Not sure. I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood," he says. "I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything."

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. I'm not used to being taken care of Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

"You're better," I say.

"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick," he says. "By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."

He doesn't seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I'm just too beat-up and I'll hear about it later when I'm stronger.

But for the moment, he's all gentleness.

"Did you eat?" I ask.

"I'm sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realized it might have to last a while. Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet," he says.

"No, it's good. You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon," I say.

"Not too soon, all right?" he says. "You just let me take care of you for a while."

I don't really seem to have much choice. Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

"Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather's not helping much," he says. There's a clap of thunder,and I see lightning electrify the sky through an opening in the rocks. Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has built a sort of canopy over my head.

"I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who's the target?" says Peeta. "Cato and Thresh," I say without thinking. "Fox face will be in her den somewhere, and Clove . . . she cut me an then . . ." My voice trails off.

"I know Clove's dead. I saw it in the sky last night," he says. "Did you kill her?"

"No. Thresh broke her skull with a rock," I say.

"Lucky he didn't catch you, too," says Peeta.

The memory of the feast returns full-force and I feel sick.

"He did. But he let me go." Then, of course, I have to tell him. About things I've kept to myself because he was too sick to ask and I wasn't ready to relive anyway. Like the explosion and my ear and Rue's dying and the boy from District 1 and the bread. All of which leads to what happened with Thresh and how he was paying off a debt of sorts.

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" asks Peeta in disbelief.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it. You've always had enough. But if you'd lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain," I say.

"And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it."

"It's like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you for that," I say.

"The bread? What? From when we were kids?" he says. "I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me. We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then," I say. "Why did you, anyway?"

"Why? I knew we were connected then. I thought we were cousins," Peeta says.

Peeta says. "So, Cato and Thresh, huh guess it's too much to hope that they'll simultaneously destroy each other?"

But the thought only upsets me. "I think we would like Thresh. I think he'd be our friend back in District Twelve," I say.

"Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to," says Peeta grimly.

I don't want Cato to kill Thresh at all. I don't want anyone else to die. But this is absolutely not the kind of thing that victors go around saying in the arena. Despite my best efforts, I can feel tears starting to pool in my eyes.

Peeta looks at me in concern. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?"

I give him another answer, because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I say plaintively, like a small child.

"You will. I promise," he says.

"I want to go home now," I say.

"Tell you what. You go back to sleep and dream of home. And you'll be there for real before you know it," he says. "Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper. "Wake me if you need me to keep watch."

"I'm good and rested, thanks to you and Haymitch. Besides, who knows how long this will last?" he says.

It's evening when Peeta wakes me again. The rain has turned to a downpour, sending streams of water through our ceiling where earlier there had been only drips. Peeta has placed the broth pot under the worst one and repositioned the plastic to deflect most of it from me. I feel a bit better, able to sit up without getting too dizzy, and I'm absolutely famished. So is Peeta. It's clear he's been waiting for me to wake up to eat and is eager to get started.

There's not much left. Two pieces of groosling, a small mishmash of roots, and a handful of dried fruit.

"Should we try and ration it?" Peeta asks.

"No, let's just finish it. The groosling's getting old anyway, and the last thing we need is to get sick off spoiled food," I say, dividing the food into two equal piles.

We try and eat slowly, but we're both so hungry were done in a couple of minutes. My stomach is in no way satisfied. "Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say.

"I won't be much help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before."

"I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather."

"I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.

"The bread they sent me from District Eleven was still warm," I say with a sigh. "Here, chew these." I hand him a couple of mint leaves and pop a few in my own mouth.

It's hard to even see the projection in the sky, but it's clear enough to know there were no more deaths today.

So Cato and Thresh haven't had it out yet.

"Where did Thresh go? I mean, what's on the far side of the circle?" I ask Peeta.

"A field. As far as you can see it's full of grasses as high as my shoulders. I don't know, maybe some of them are grain. There are patches of different colors. But there are no paths," says Peeta.

"I bet some of them are grain. I bet Thresh knows which ones, too," I say. "Did you go in there?"

"No. Nobody really wanted to track Thresh down in that grass. It has a sinister feeling to it. Every time I look at that field, all I can think of are hidden things. Snakes, and rabid animals, and quicksand," Peeta says. "There could be anything in there."

I don't say so but Peeta's words remind me of the warnings they give us about not going beyond the fence in District 12. I can't help, for a moment, comparing him with Gale, who would see that field as a potential source of food as well as a threat. Thresh certainly did. It's not that Peeta's soft exactly, and he's proved he's not a coward. But there are things you don't question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale's tirades against the Capitol?

"Maybe there is a bread bush in that field," I say. "Maybe that's why Thresh looks better fed now than when we started the Games."

"Either that or he's got very generous sponsors," says Peeta. "I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch to send us some bread."

"Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out," I say mischievously.

"Yeah, about that," says Peeta, "Don't try something like that again."

"Or what?" I ask.

"Or . . . or . . ." He can't think of anything good. "Just give me a minute."

"What's the problem?" I say with a grin.

"The problem is we're both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing," says Peeta.

"I did do the right thing," I say.

"No! Just don't, Kat!" there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?" I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe I can't imagine life without you now that your in it." Before he says anything else I continue, "I don't know how to be the little sister Peeta. I've always only ever been the big sister, protecting Prim, feeding Prim. I don't know how to be protected."

Peeta looks sad, "I understand that Kat, I do. If I had known I was your older brother things would have been different. I wish they had been different." He looks like he is mad at himself.

"You didn't know Peeta, there was nothing you could have done anyways."

"I should have known!" he raises his voice to himself, "I mean look at us. We have the same eyes, same hair. I knew we were related I should have done more."

"Stop Peeta. There is nothing you could have done. Even if you had known I wouldn't have let you. I've learned how to take care of myself and Prim and my mother. We've done alright."

He sighs, "Your going to have to learn." he tells me.

"Learn what?"

"How to be protected, how to be taken care of, how to be a little sister."

I smile, "I think I can try to manage that."

He looks at me for a few minutes and he's about to say something else but he gets distracted.

"I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway," he says.

My socks are dry enough to wear now. I make Peeta put his jacket back on. The damp cold seems to cut right down to my bones, so he must be half frozen. I insist on taking the first watch, too, although neither of us think it's likely anyone will come in this weather. But he won't agree unless I'm in the bag, too, and I'm shivering so hard that it's pointless to object. In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away.

"Tomorrow, when it's dry, I'll find us a place so high in the trees we can both sleep in peace,"

But tomorrow is no better in terms of weather. The deluge continues as if the Gamemakers are intent on washing us all away. The thunder's so powerful it seems to shake the ground. Peeta's considering heading out anyway to scavenge for food, but I tell him in this storm it would be pointless. He won't be able to see three feet in front of his face and he'll only end up getting soaked to the skin for his troubles. He knows I'm right, but the gnawing in our stomachs is becoming painful.

"What is the first thing your gonna do if you get home?" Peeta asks me

"Hmm let me think a minute." There are so many things I want to do. Hug prim. Talk to Finnick, see if we are on the same page. I mean what if it didn't mean anything to him? what if he thought I was going to die so it didn't matter. Go to the woods, to the lake my dad showed me. Talk to my mom and well my father. Meet my other two brothers. Eat a whole loaf of bread.

"There are too many things I can't choose, probably sleep without being worried I'm going to die."

"Right now I think I just want to eat. I could eat a whole deer."

I laugh. We talk for a little bit. Almost forgetting where we are and then a clunk outside makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but there's no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, he's out in the rain, then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there's a feast - fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer.

Peeta wriggles back inside, his face lit up like the sun. "I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve."

"I guess so," I answer.


	25. Chapter 25 Stew

**Chapter Twenty Five: Stew**

Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it, handful by handful into my mouth. But Peeta's voice stops me. "We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then."

"You're right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!" I say regretfully. But I don't. We are quite sensible. We each have a roll, half an apple, and an egg-size serving of stew and rice. I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls - they even sent us silverware and plates savoring each bite. When we finish, I stare longingly at the dish. "I want more."

"Me, too. Tell you what. We wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving," Peeta says.

"Agreed," I say. "It's going to be a long hour."

"Yeah," says Peeta.

'How do you think our families back home are reacting to everything being out in the open, and in public?" I ask him.

"I don't know," he laughs without humor, "I wasn't announcing it for them, I was announcing it for us."

"I know."

"I bet my mom won't take it well. It's a good thing I won't be living in her house if I go home."

"Would she be that bad?" I ask him cautiously.

He takes a sharp breath, and nods. I can see he is remembering something, and its not pleasant.

Silently I pat his hand.

"I always thought your mom didn't like me because I was from the Seam."

"Well I don't think that helped." he shakes his head, "If we go home you won't be from the seam, you'll be from victors village."

That's right. If we win, we'll each get a house in the part of town reserved for Hunger Games' victors. Long ago, when the Games began, the Capitol had built a dozen fine houses in each district. Of course, in ours only one is occupied. Most of the others have never been lived in at all.

A disturbing thought hits me. "But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!"

"Ah, that'll be nice," says Peeta. "You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games' tales."

"I told you, he hates me!" I say, but I can't help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal.

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you," says Peeta.

"He's never sober!" I protest.

"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when he set you on fire," says Peeta. "On the other hand, Haymitch . . . well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."

"I thought you said I was his favorite," I say.

"He hates me more," says Peeta. "I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."

I know the audience will enjoy our having fun at Haymitch's expense. He has been around so long, he's practically an old friend to some of them. And after his head-dive off the stage at the reaping, everybody knows him. By this time, they'll have dragged him out of the control room for interviews about us. No telling what sort of lies he's made up. He's at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to be ready to go into action at any moment.

It's funny. Haymitch and I don't get along well in person, but maybe Peeta is right about us being alike because he seems able to communicate with me by the timing of his gifts. Like how I knew I must be close to water when he withheld it and how I knew the sleep syrup just wasn't something to ease Peeta's pain.

A thought hits me, and I'm amazed the question's taken so long to surface. "How do you think he did it?"

"Who? Did what?" Peeta asks.

"Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?" I say.

Peeta considers this quite a while before he answers. Haymitch is sturdily built, but no physical wonder like Cato or Thresh. He's not particularly handsome. Not in the way that causes sponsors to rain gifts on you. And he's so surly, it's hard to imagine anyone teaming up with him. There's only one way Haymitch could have won, and Peeta says it just as I'm reaching this conclusion myself.

"He outsmarted the others," says Peeta. I nod, then let the conversation drop. But secretly I'm wondering if Haymitch sobered up long enough to help Peeta and me because he thought we just might have the wits to survive.

Maybe he wasn't always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after year after year. I realize that if I get out of here, that will become my job.

And suddenly I understand what Finnick was telling me the night before the games. If I win I will always be at the mercy of the Capitol. I will always be in the public eye. I will have to mentor kids from district twelve year after year until I die. I don't know if I can handle it. In fact, the idea is so repellent, I thrust it from my mind.

We hear the anthem begin to play. Peeta presses his eyes against a crack in the rocks to watch the sky.

"There won't be anything to see tonight," I say, far more interested in the stew than the sky. "Nothing's happened or we would've heard a cannon."

"Katniss," Peeta says quietly.

"What? Should we split another roll, too?" I ask.

"Katniss," he repeats, but I find myself wanting to ignore him.

"I'm going to split one. But I'll save the cheese for tomorrow," I say. I see Peeta staring at me. "What?"

"Thresh is dead," says Peeta.

"He can't be," I say.

"They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it," says Peeta.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's pouring buckets out there. I don't know how you can see anything," I say. I push him away from the rocks and squint out into the dark, rainy sky. For about ten seconds, I catch a distorted glimpse of Thresh's picture and then he's gone. Just like that.

Thresh dead. I should be happy,right? One less tribute to face. And a powerful one, I'm not happy. All I can think about is Thresh letting me go, letting me run because of Rue, who died with that spear in her stomach. . . . "You all right?" asks Peeta.

I give a noncommittal shrug and cup my elbows in my hands, hugging them close to my body. I have to bury the real pain because who's going to bet on a tribute who keeps sniveling over the deaths of her opponents. Rue was one thing. We were allies. She was so young. But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh's murder.

"It means Cato will be back hunting us. And he's got supplies again," says Peeta.

"He'll be wounded, I bet," I say.

"What makes you say that?" Peeta asks.

"Because Thresh would have never gone down without a fight. He's so strong, I mean, he was. And they were in his territory," I say.

"Good," says Peeta. "The more wounded Cato is the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out."

"Oh, she's fine," I say peevishly. I'm still angry she thought of hiding in the Cornucopia and I didn't."Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

"Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home," says Peeta. "But we better be extra careful about the watches. I dozed off a few times."

"Me, too," I admit. "But not tonight."

For the first time, I allow myself to truly think about the possibility that I might make it home. To fame. To wealth. To my own house in the Victor's Village. My mother and Prim would live there with me. No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But then . . . what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some. I think of Haymitch, with all his money. What did his life become? He lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that.

"But you won't be alone," I whisper to myself. I have my mother and I will have Finnick. Well, for the time being. And then . . .I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I think about Finnick, I always said I would never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

The sun eventually rises. I scoot over and shake Peeta's shoulder. "It's hunting time."

Giving a big stretches he sits up he says, "So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?"

"Not us," I say. "We stuff ourselves to give us staying power."

"Count me in," Peeta says. But I can see he's surprised when I divide the rest of the stew and rice and hand a heaping plate to him. "All this?"

"We'll earn it back today," I say, and we both plow into our plates. Even cold, it's one of the best things I've ever tasted. I abandon my fork and scrape up the last dabs of gravy with my finger. "I can feel Effie Trinket shuddering at my manners."

"Hey, Effie, watch this!" says Peeta. He tosses his fork over his shoulder and literally licks his plate clean with his tongue making loud, satisfied sounds. Then he blows a kiss out to her in general and calls, "We miss you, Effie!"

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I'm laughing. "Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave."

He grabs my hand away. "What do I care? I can protect us now," says Peeta with a teasing smile

"Come on," I say in exasperation.


	26. Chapter 26 Hunting

**Chapter Twenty Six: Hunting**

Once we're packed up and standing outside our cave, our mood shifts to serious. It's as though for the last few days, sheltered by the rocks and the rain and Cato's preoccupation with Thresh, we were given a respite, a holiday of sorts. Now, although the day is sunny and warm, we both sense we're really back in the Games. I hand Peeta my knife, since whatever weapons he once had are long gone, and he slips it into his belt. My last seven arrows rattle a bit too loosely in the quiver. I can't afford to lose any more.

"He'll be hunting us by now," says Peeta. "Cato isn't one to wait for his prey to wander by."

"If he's wounded -" I begin.

"It won't matter," Peeta breaks in. "If he can move, he's coming." With all the rain, the stream has overrun its banks by several feet on either side. We stop there to replenish our water. I check the snares I set days ago and come up empty. Not surprising with the weather.

"If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds," I say.

"Your call. Just tell me what you need me to do," Peeta says.

"Keep an eye out," I say. "Stay on the rocks as much as possible, no sense in leaving him tracks to follow. And listen for both of us." It's clear, at this point, that the explosion destroyed the hearing in my left ear for good.

For the first time, I realize we have a problem. Navigating the rocky terrain with a bad leg - well, you're naturally going to make some noise. But even on the smooth bed of needles, Peeta is loud. And I mean loud loud, as if he's stomping his feet or something. I turn and look at him.

"What?" he asks.

"You've got to move more quietly," I say. "Forget about Cato, you're chasing off every rabbit in a ten-mile radius."

"Really?" he says. "Sorry, I didn't know."

So, we start up again and he's a tiny bit better, but even with only one working ear, he's making me stop to rest and drink water, I try to work out a solution. Ideally, I'd dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt, but then he'd be left with only a knife to defend himself against Cato's spears and superior strength. So what I'd really like is to try and conceal him somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him. But I have a feeling his ego isn't going to go for that suggestion.

"Katniss," he says. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game."

"Only because your leg's hurt," I say generously, because really, you can tell that's only a small part of the problem.

"I know," he says. "So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."

"Not if Cato comes and kills you." I tried to say it in a nice way, but it still sounds like I think he's a weakling.

Surprisingly, he just laughs. "Look, I can handle Cato. I fought him before, didn't I?"

Yeah, and that turned out great. You ended up dying in a mud bank. That's what I want to say, but I can't. He did save my life by taking on Cato after all. I try another tactic. "What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I hunted?" I say, trying to make it sound like very important work.

"Katniss, stop trying to protect me, I can handle myself. Your treating me like I am Prim. I thought we decided that I'm in charge. What if you show me what's edible around here and go get us some meat?" he says, mimicking my tone. "Just don't go far, in case you need help."

"I never decided that." I say joking now.

"Well I decided it, and if you can't accept it I'll just have to... throw you in the river." He tries to keep his face serious but ends up laughing.

Eventually I give in and show him some roots to dig. We do need food, no question. One apple, two rolls, and a blob of cheese the size of a plum won't last long. I'll just go a short distance and hope Cato is a long way off.

Leaving him with the pack, I head off. I feel like I'm eleven again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. I realize that I am treating him like I would Prim. Away from him though, the woods come alive with animal sounds and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. I decide it's enough. I can set snares and maybe get some fish. With Peeta's roots, this will be enough for now.

Suddenly I feel anxious, I run. In no time, I find the pack, a neat pile of roots beside it. The sheet of plastic has been laid on the ground where the sun can reach the single layer of berries that covers it. But where is he? I see some of the food has been eaten. He ate without me. I look a little closer at the berries. I've never seen this type before. No, I have. But not in the arena. These aren't Rue's berries, although they resemble them. Nor do they match any I learned about in training. I lean down and scoop up a few, rolling them between my fingers. My father's voice comes back to me. " _Not these, Katniss. Never these. They're nightlock. You'll be dead before they reach your stomach._ " Just then, the cannon fires. I whip around, searching for Peeta.

He must have eaten the berries. "Peeta!" I call out in a panic. "Peeta!" I turn to the rustle of brush and almost send an arrow through him. My fear comes out as anger. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!"

"I found some berries down by the stream," he says, clearly confused by my outburst.

"I whistled. Why didn't you whistle back?" I snap at him.

He crosses and puts his hands on my shoulders. That's when I feel that I'm trembling. "I thought these killed you!" I almost shout.

"No, I'm fine." Peeta wraps his arms around me, but I don't respond. "Katniss?"

The hovercraft appears a hundred yards or so away. What's left of Foxface's emaciated body is lifted into the air. I can see the red glint of her hair in the sunlight. I should have known the moment I saw the missing food.

Peeta has me by the arm, pushing me toward a tree. "Climb. He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance fighting him from above."

I stop him, suddenly calm. "No, Peeta, she's your kill, not Cato's."

"What? I haven't even seen her since the first day," he says. "How could I have killed her?"

In answer, I hold out the berries. How she wouldn't question the safety of berries we were preparing to eat ourselves.

"I wonder how she found us," says Peeta. "My fault, I guess, if I'm as loud as you say."

"And she's very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her."

"Not on purpose. Doesn't seem fair somehow. I mean, we would have both been dead, too, if she hadn't eaten the berries first." He checks himself. "No, of course, we wouldn't. You recognized them, didn't you?"

I give a nod. "We call them nightlock."

"Even the name sounds deadly," he says. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I really thought they were the same ones you'd gathered."

"Don't apologize. It just means we're one step closer to home, right?" I ask.

"I'll get rid of the rest," Peeta says. He gathers up the sheet of blue plastic, careful to trap the berries inside, and goes to toss them into the woods.

"Wait!" I cry. I find the leather pouch that belonged to the boy from District 1 and fill it with a few handfuls of berries from the plastic. "If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool Cato as well. If he's chasing us or something, we can act like we accidentally drop the pouch and if he eats them -"

"Then hello District Twelve," says Peeta.

"That's it," I say, securing the pouch to my belt.

"He'll know where we are now," says Peeta. "If he was anywhere nearby and saw that hovercraft, he'll know we killed her and come after us." Peeta's right. This could be just the opportunity Cato's been waiting for. But even if we run now, there's the meat to cook and our fire will be another sign of our whereabouts. "Let's make a fire. Right now." I begin to gather branches and brush.

"Are you ready to face him?" Peeta asks.

"I'm ready to eat. Better to cook our food while we have the chance. If he knows we're here, he knows. But he also knows there's two of us and probably assumes we were hunting Fox-face. That means you're recovered. And the fire means we're not hiding, we're inviting him here. Would you show up?" I ask.

"Maybe not," he says and smirks.

Peeta's a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. In no time, I have the rabbits and squirrel roasting, the roots, wrapped in leaves, baking in the coals. We take turns gathering greens and keeping a careful watch for Cato, but as I anticipated, he doesn't make an appearance.

We cook the food. Eat some, and then head back to the cave per Peeta's request.


	27. Chapter 27 Mutts

**Chapter Twenty Seven: Mutts**

When I wake in the morning is bright and hot. "Any sign of our friend?"

Peeta shakes his head. "No, he's keeping a disturbingly low profile."

"How long do you think we'll have before the Gamemakers drive us together?" I ask.

"Well, Foxface died almost a day ago, so there's been plenty of time for the audience to place bets and get bored. I guess it could happen at any moment," says Peeta.

"Yeah, I have a feeling today's the day," I say. I sit up and look out at the peaceful terrain. "I wonder how they'll do it." Peeta remains silent. There's not really any good answer. "Well, until they do, no sense in wasting a hunting day. But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble," I say.

Leaving the cave has a sense of finality about it. I don't think there will be another night in the arena somehow. One way or the other, dead or alive, I have the feeling I'll escape it today.

The stream is bone dry. They had to have drained it. "The lake," says Peeta. "That's where they want us to go."

"Maybe the ponds still have some," I say hopefully.

"We can check," he says, but he's just humoring me. I'm humoring myself because I know what I'll find when we return to the pond where I soaked my leg. A dusty, gaping mouth of a hole. But we make the trip anyway just to confirm what we already know. "You're right. They're driving us to the lake," I say. Where there's no cover. Where they're guaranteed a bloody fight to the death with nothing to block their view.

"Do you want to go straightaway or wait until the water's tapped out?"

"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest. Let's just go end this thing," he says. "Two against one. Should be a piece of cake," he says.

"Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol," I answer.

"You bet it will," he says. We hug tightly, knowing that it might really be the last time if something goes wrong.

"Kat..." Peeta starts and I interrupt him.

"No Peeta" I shake my head already knowing what he is going to say, "Don't say it." Somehow I feel that if he says it something will go wrong and only one of us will live, and I know I can't stand it if that happens!

He nods his head.

Then without another word, we break apart and head for the lake.

There is no sign of Cato at the lake, but obediently we go to the lake and fill our bottles.

I frown at the shrinking sun. "We don't want to fight him after dark. There's only the one pair of glasses."

Peeta carefully squeezes drops of iodine into the water. "Maybe that's what he's waiting for. What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?"

"Either that or find a tree. But let's give him another half an hour or so. Then we'll take cover," I answer.

We sit by the lake, in full sight. There's no point in hiding now. In the trees at the edge of the plain, I can see the mockingjays flitting about. Bouncing melodies back and forth between them like brightly colored balls. I open my mouth and sing out Rue's four-note run. I can feel them pause curiously at the sound of my voice, listening for more. I repeat the notes in the silence. First one mockingjay trills the tune back, then another. Then the whole world comes alive with the sound.

I close my eyes and listen, mesmerized by the beauty of the song. Then something begins to disrupt the music. Runs cut off in jagged, imperfect lines. Dissonant notes intersperse with the melody. The mockingjays' voices rise up in a shrieking cry of alarm.

We're on our feet, Peeta wielding his knife, me poised to shoot, when Cato smashes through the trees and bears down on us. He has no spear. In fact, his hands are empty, yet he runs straight for us. My first arrow hits his chest and inexplicably falls aside. "He's got some kind of body armor!" I shout to Peeta.

Just in time, too, because Cato is upon us. I brace myself, but he rockets right between us with no attempt to check his speed. I can tell from his panting, the sweat pouring off his purplish face, that he's been running hard a long time. Not toward us. From something. But what?

My eyes scan the woods just in time to see the first creature leap onto the plain. As I'm turning away, I see another half dozen join it. Then I am stumbling blindly after Cato with no thought of anything but to save myself.

Mutations. No question about it. I've never seen these mutts, but they're no natural-born animals. They resemble huge wolves, but what wolf lands and then balances easily on its hind legs? What wolf waves the rest of the pack forward with its front paw as though it had a wrist? These things I can see at a distance. Up close, I'm sure their more menacing attributes will be revealed.

Cato has made a beeline for the Cornucopia, and without question I follow him. If he thinks it's the safest place, who am I to argue? Besides, even if I could make it to the trees, it would be impossible for Peeta to outrun them on that leg - Peeta! My hands have just landed on the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia when I remember I'm part of a team. He's about fifteen yards behind me, hobbling as fast as he can, but the mutts are closing in on him fast. I send an arrow into the pack and one goes down, but there are plenty to take its place.

Peeta's waving me up the horn, "Go, Katniss! Go!"

He's right. I can't protect either of us on the ground. I start climbing, scaling the Cornucopia on my hands and feet.

Cato lies on his side at the very top of the horn, twenty feet above the ground, gasping to catch his breath as he gags over the edge. Now's my chance to finish him off. I stop midway up the horn and load another arrow, but just as I'm about to let it fly, I hear Peeta cry out. I twist around and see he's just reached the tail, and the mutts are right on his heels.

"Climb!" I yell. Peeta starts up hampered by not only the leg but the knife in his hand. I shoot my arrow down the throat of the first mutt that places its paws on the metal. Peeta reaches my feet and I grab his arm and pull him along. Then I remember Cato waiting at the top and whip around, but he's doubled over with cramps and apparently more preoccupied with the mutts than us. He coughs out something unintelligible. The snuffling, growling sound coming from the mutts isn't helping.

"What?" I shout at him.

"He said, 'Can they climb it?'" answers Peeta, drawing my focus back to the base of the horn.

The mutts are beginning to assemble. As they join together, they raise up again to stand easily on their back legs giving them an eerily human quality. Each has a thick coat, some with fur that is straight and sleek, others curly, and the colors vary from jet black to what I can only describe as blond. There's something else about them, something that makes the hair rise up on the back of my neck, but I can't put my finger on it.

They put their snouts on the horn, sniffing and tasting the metal, scraping paws over the surface and then making high-pitched yipping sounds to one another. This must be how they communicate because the pack backs up as if to make room. Then one of them, a good-size mutt with silky waves of blond fur takes a running start and leaps onto the horn. Its back legs must be incredibly powerful because it lands a mere ten feet below us, its pink lips pulled back in a snarl. For a moment it hangs there, and in that moment I realize what else unsettled me about the mutts. The green eyes glowering at me are unlike any dog or wolf, any canine I've ever seen. They are unmistakably human. And that revelation has barely registered when I notice the collar with the number 1 inlaid with jewels and the whole horrible thing hits me. The blonde hair, the green eyes, the number . . . it's Glimmer.

"Katniss?" I can feel Peeta's grip on my arm.

"It's her!" I get out.

"Who?" asks Peeta.

"What is it, Katniss?" Peeta shakes my shoulder.

"It's them. It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and . . . all of the other tributes," I choke out.

I hear Peeta's gasp of recognition. "What did they do to them? You don't think . . . those could be their real eyes?"

Before I can get this out, the mutts begin a new assault on the horn. They've split into two groups at the sides of the horn and are using those powerful hindquarters to launch themselves at us. A pair of teeth ring together just inches from my hand and then I hear Peeta cry out, feel the yank on his body, the heavy weight of boy and mutt pulling me over the side. If not for the grip on my arm, he'd be on the ground, but as it is, it takes all my strength to keep us both on the curved back of the horn.

"Kill it, Peeta! Kill it!" I'm shouting, and although I can't quite see what's happening, I know he must have stabbed the thing because the pull lessens. I'm able to haul him back onto the horn where we drag ourselves toward the top where the lesser of two evils awaits.

Cato has still not regained his feet, but his breathing is slowing and I know soon he'll be recovered enough to come for us, to hurl us over the side to our deaths. I arm my bow, but the arrow ends up taking out a mutt that can only be Thresh. Who else could jump so high?

I feel a moment's relief because we must finally be up above the mutt line and I'm just turning back to face Cato when Peeta's jerked from my side. I'm sure the pack has got him until his blood splatters my face.

Cato stands before me, almost at the lip of the horn, holding Peeta in some kind of headlock, cutting off his air. Peeta's clawing at Cato's arm, but weakly, as if confused over whether it's more important to breathe or try and stem the gush of blood from the gaping hole a mutt left in his calf.

I aim one of my last two arrows at Cato's head, knowing it'll have no effect on his trunk or limbs, which I can now see are clothed in a skintight, flesh-colored mesh. Some high-grade body armor from the Capitol. Was that what was in his pack at the feast? Body armor to defend against my arrows? Well, they neglected to send a face guard.

Cato just laughs. "Shoot me and he goes down with me."

He's right. If I take him out and he falls to the mutts, Peeta is sure to die with him. We've reached a stalemate. I can't shoot Cato without killing Peeta, too. He can't kill Peeta without guaranteeing an arrow in his brain. We stand like statues, both of us seeking an out.

My muscles are strained so tightly, they feel they might snap at any moment. My teeth clenched to the breaking point. The mutts go silent and the only thing I can hear is the blood pounding in my good ear.

Peeta's lips are turning blue. If I don't do something quickly, he'll die of asphyxiation and then I'll have lost him and Cato will probably use his body as a weapon against me. In fact, I'm sure this is Cato's plan because while he's stopped laughing, his lips are set in a triumphant smile.

As if in a last-ditch effort, Peeta raises his fingers, dripping with blood from his leg, up to Cato's arm. Instead of trying to wrestle his way free, his forefinger veers off and makes a deliberate X on the back of Cato's hand. Cato realizes what it means exactly one second after I do. I can tell by the way the smile drops from his lips. But it's one second too late because, by that time, my arrow is piercing his hand. He cries out and reflexively releases Peeta who slams back against him.

For a horrible moment, I think they're both going over. I dive forward just catching hold of Peeta as Cato loses his footing on the blood-slick horn and plummets to the ground.

We hear him hit, the air leaving his body on impact, and then the mutts attack him. There is still no cannon. Night falls and the anthem plays and there's no picture of Cato in the sky, only the faint moans coming through the metal beneath us. The icy air blowing across the plain reminds me that the Games are not over and may not be for who knows how long, and there is still no guarantee of victory.

I turn my attention to Peeta and discover his leg is bleeding as badly as ever. All our supplies, our packs, remain down by the lake where we abandoned them when we fled from the mutts. I have no bandage, nothing to staunch the flow of blood from his calf. Although I'm shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip back into the jacket as swiftly as possible. That brief exposure sets my teeth chattering beyond control.

Peeta's face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound. Warm, slippery blood runs over my fingers. A bandage will not be enough. I've seen my mother tie a tourniquet a handful of times and try to replicate it. I cut free a sleeve from my shirt, wrap it twice around his leg just under his knee, and tie a half knot. I don't have a stick, so I take my remaining arrow and insert it in the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare.

It's risky business - Peeta may end up losing his leg - but when I weigh this against him losing his life, what alternative do I have? I bandage the wound in the rest of my shirt and lay down with him.

"Don't go to sleep," I tell him. I'm not sure if this is exactly medical protocol, but I'm terrified that if he drifts off he'll never wake again.

"Why don't they just kill him?" I ask Peeta.

"You know why," he says, and pulls me closer to him. And I do. No viewer could turn away from the show now. From the Gamemakers' point of view, this is the final word in entertainment.

It goes on and on and on and eventually completely consumes my mind, blocking out memories and hopes of tomorrow, erasing everything but the present, which I begin to believe will never change. There will never be anything but cold and fear and the agonized sounds of the boy dying in the horn.

Finally, I hear him whisper that the sun is rising. I open my eyes and find the stars fading in the pale light of dawn. I can see, too, how bloodless Peeta's face has become. How little time he has left. And I know I have to get him back to the Capitol.

Still, no cannon has fired. "I think he's closer now. Katniss, can you shoot him?" Peeta asks.

"My last arrow's in your tourniquet," I say.

"Make it count," says Peeta,

So I free the arrow, tying the tourniquet back as tightly as my frozen fingers can manage. I rub my hands together, trying to regain circulation. When I crawl to the lip of the horn and hang over the edge, I feel Peeta's hands grip me for support. It takes a few moments to find Cato in the dim light, in the blood. Then the raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where his mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is please.

Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into his skull.

"Did you get him?" he whispers.

The cannon fires in answer.

"Then we won, Katniss," he says hollowly.

"Hurray for us," I get out, but there's no joy of victory in my voice.

A hole opens in the plain and as if on cue, the remaining mutts bound into it, disappearing as the earth closes above them.


	28. Chapter 28 Victors

**Chapter Twenty Eight: Victors**

We wait, for the hovercraft to take Cato's remains, for the trumpets of victory that should follow, but nothing happens.

"Hey!" I shout into air. "What's going on?" The only response is the chatter of waking birds. "Maybe it's the body. Maybe we have to move away from it," says Peeta.

I try to remember. Do you have to distance yourself from the dead tribute on the final kill? My brain is too muddled to be sure, but what else could be the reason for the delay?

"Okay. Think you could make it to the lake?" I ask.

"Think I better try," says Peeta. Somehow, we make it back to the lake.

I scoop up a handful of the cold water for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

A mockingjay gives the long, low whistle, and tears of relief fill my eyes as the hovercraft appears and takes Cato's body away. Now they will take us. Now we can go home.

But again there's no response. "What are they waiting for?" says Peeta weakly. Between the loss of the tourniquet and the effort it took to get to the lake, his wound has opened up again.

"I don't know," I say. Whatever the holdup is, I can't watch him lose any more blood. I get up to find a stick but almost immediately come across the arrow that bounced off Cato's body armor. It will do as well as the other arrow.

As I stoop to pick it up, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," he says. "Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

There's a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live. This has all been devised by the Gamemakers to guarantee the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, I bought into it.

I know my mouth is hanging open in shock and I can't bring myself to close it.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," he says softly. I watch as he painfully makes it to his feet. Then he's moving toward me, as if in slow motion, his hand is pulling the knife from his belt. He is going to try and stab me. My knees give out on me and I sink to the ground. Peeta raises his eyebrows and I see the knife has already left his hand on its way to the lake where it splashes in the water. Ultimately I feel relief, but then my face burns.

Peeta limps his way over to me, pulling me to my feet. He takes my bow and thrusts them into my hands. "Do it."

"I can't," I say. "I won't." I drop my head so my forehead is on his chest and I shake my head. I expected him to put his arms around me to comfort me but he doesn't.

Instead he pushes me back up forcing the weapons up, "Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says.

"Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.

"You know I can't," Peeta says, discarding the weapons. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." He leans down and rips the bandage off his leg, eliminating the final barrier between his blood and the earth.

"No, you can't kill yourself," I say. I'm on my knees, desperately plastering the bandage back onto his wound.

"Katniss," he says. "It's what I want."

"You're not leaving me here alone," I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

"Listen," he says pulling me to my feet, putting his hands on either side of my face and holding it so I will look at him. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me. Let me protect my little sister one last time. Go home and live for me."

I'm shaking my head refusing to listen to him. "No," I tell him, "No."

He goes on about how I have to get back to my mother and Prim, and that he loves me, and that he's glad he got to be my brother even only for a few weeks but I've stopped listening because his previous words are trapped in my head, thrashing desperately around.

We both know they have to have a victor. Yes, they have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing would blow up in the Gamemakers' faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possibly even be executed, slowly and painfully while the cameras broadcast it to every screen in the country.

If Peeta and I were both to die, or they thought we were. . .My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it.

Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you."

"I'm not leaving here without you. Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?"

"The count of three," he says.

We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says.

I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a goodbye, and we begin counting. "One." Maybe I'm wrong. "Two." Maybe they don't care if we both die. "Three!" It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare.

The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you the tributes of District Twelve!"


	29. Chapter 29 Sedated

**Chapter Twenty Nine: Sedated**

I spew the berries from my mouth, wiping my tongue with the end of my shirt to make sure no juice remains. Peeta pulls me to the lake where we both flush our mouths with water and then collapse in the ground.

"You didn't swallow any?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "You?"

"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did," I say. I can see his lips moving in reply, but I can't hear him over the roar of the crowd in the Capitol that they're playing live over the speakers.

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop, only there's no way I'm letting go of Peeta. I keep one arm around him as I help him up, and we each place a foot on the first rung of the ladder. The electric current freezes us in place, and this time I'm glad because I'm not really sure Peeta can hang on for the whole ride. And since my eyes were looking down, I can see that while our muscles are immobile, nothing is preventing the blood from draining out of Peeta's leg. Sure enough, the minute the door closes behind us and the current stops, he slumps to the floor unconscious.

Doctors in sterile white, masked and gloved, already prepped to operate, go into action. Peeta's so pale and still on a silver table, tubes and wires springing out of him every which way, and for a moment I forget we're out of the Games and I see the doctors as just one more threat, one more pack of mutts designed to kill him. Petrified, I lunge for him, but I'm caught and thrust back into another room, and a glass door seals between us.

I slump down on the floor, my face against the door. Through the glass, I see the doctors working feverishly on Peeta, their brows creased in concentration. I see the flow of liquids, pumping through the tubes, watch a wall of dials and lights that mean nothing to me. I'm not sure, but I think his heart stops twice.

It's like being home again, when they bring in the hopelessly mangled person from the mine explosion, or the woman in her third day of labor, or the famished child struggling against pneumonia and my mother and Prim, they wear that same look on their faces. Now is the time to run away to the woods, to hide in the trees until the patient is long gone and in another part of the Seam the hammers make the coffin. But I'm held here both by the hovercraft walls and the same force that holds the loved ones of the dying. How often I've seen them, ringed around our kitchen table and I thought, Why don't they leave? Why do they stay to watch?

And now I know. It's because you have no choice. I startle when I catch someone staring at me from only a few inches away and then realize it's my own face reflecting back in the glass. Wild eyes, hollow cheeks, my hair in a tangled mat. Rabid. Feral. Mad. No wonder everyone is keeping a safe distance from me.

The next thing I know we've landed back on the roof of the Training Center and they're taking Peeta but leaving me behind the door. I start hurling myself against the glass, shrieking and I think I just catch a glimpse of pink hair - it must be Effie, it has to be Effie coming to my rescue - when the needle jabs me from behind.

When I wake, I'm afraid to move at first. The entire ceiling glows with a soft yellow light allowing me to see that I'm in a room containing just my bed. No doors, no windows are visible. The air smells of something sharp and antiseptic. My right arm has several tubes that extend into the wall behind me. I'm naked, but the bedclothes arc soothing against my skin. I tentatively lift my left hand above the cover. Not only has it been scrubbed clean, the nails are filed in perfect ovals, the scars from the burns are less prominent. I touch my cheek, my lips, the puckered scar above my eyebrow, and am just running my fingers through my silken hair when I freeze. Apprehensively I ruffle the hair by my left ear. No, it wasn't an illusion. I can hear again. I try and sit up, but some sort of wide restraining band around my waist keeps me from rising more than a few inches. The physical confinement makes me panic and I'm trying to pull myself up and wriggle my hips through the band when a portion of the wall slides open and in steps Finnick carrying a tray. The sight of him calms me and I stop trying to escape. I want to ask him a million questions, but I don't know where to start.

He puts the tray in front of me and helps me sit up. I'm suddenly very aware that I'm naked and I pull the blanket closer around me. He sits in the chair next to the bed, he looks nervous.

"Did something change Finnick?" I ask him, nervous of his answer.

"What do you mean?" he looks confused

"Did something change? Were you lying about your feelings because you thought I was going to die?"

His face doesn't change, "No, if anything I was holding back because I thought you might die. Were you?"

I shake my head and smile, "Then what are you waiting for?" He still looks confused, this isn't the charming, cocky Finnick I left behind, "Are you going to just sit there or come over here and kiss me." I ask him, surprised by my confidence.

He grins at me and I catch a glimpse of carefree Finnick, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Thats when I know something is wrong. He doesn't say anything though, but he does walk over and kiss me.

When his lips touch mine, and I can feel myself relax, the tension easing out of my shoulders. When he pulls back I can tell something is wrong.

"Is Peeta okay?" I ask almost panic. That's it, it has to be it. Why else would he look that way?

To my relief he says, "Yes, Peeta is fine. They fixed him up just like they did you."

"Then what is it Finnick?" I run my fingers up the side of his face and through his hair. I think the medicine must be making me brave.

"I just- I can't let myself believe your really okay. I feel like I could wake up from a dream and you'll be gone again." He cups my face with both of his hands. It's completely different from the way Peeta did it in the arena. My cheeks tingle from his touch.

"I'm not going anywhere Finnick. Except maybe home to district 12." Shouldn't he be home too? "How are you here? Not that I'm not glad to see you that is."

"I was in the Capitol when you won. Technically, I'm not supposed to be here, but I snuck in." He smirks. The corner of his mouth pulling up, and he winks at me.

"Why are you in the Capitol?" I ask him curiously.

"Well.. thats a story for another day. And really, I hope you never have to find out. I don't have much time, in fact I have to go, I only had a 5 minute window." He leans over to kiss me again.

"Will I see you again soon?" I ask suddenly afraid I won't see him until the games next year.

"I'll make sure of it." He promises. He kisses me and when he starts to pull away I pull him back. I expect him to pull back again but he doesn't. He gives in deepening the kiss. When we finally break for air I see there are tears in his eyes.

"What's going on Finn?" I ask him concerned.

He shakes his head, "Watching you in the arena... I..." he shakes his head again, "I just... I'm so glad your here Katniss."

"Me too."

"I wish I had more time right now but I have to go."

"It's okay. We have plenty of time now." I tell him reassuringly.

"Yes we do." he says kissing me quickly and leaving. It hurts to see him leave, especially not knowing when I will be able to see him again.

Something was going on with him. I'm not sure what it is and for some reason he couldn't tell me, at least not here. If there is anything I have to say about it I plan on finding out soon.

There's usually a lag of a few days between the end of the competition and the presentation of the victor so that they can put the starving, wounded, mess of a person back together again. Somewhere, Cinna and Portia will be creating our wardrobes for the public appearances. Haymitch and Effie will be arranging the banquet for our sponsors, reviewing the questions for our final interviews. Back home, District 12 is probably in chaos as they try and organize the homecoming celebrations for Peeta and me, given that the last one was close to thirty years ago.

Home! Prim and my mother! Gale! Even the thought of Prim's scruffy old cat makes me smile. Soon I will be home!

I want to get out of this bed. To see Peeta and Cinna, to find out more about what's been going on. And why shouldn't I? I feel fine. But as I start to work my way out of the band, I feel a cold liquid seeping into my vein from one of the tubes and almost immediately lose consciousness.

This happens on and off for an indeterminate amount of time. My waking, eating, and, even though I resist the impulse to try and escape the bed, being knocked out again. I seem to be in a strange, continual twilight. Only a few things register. Did I hear a man's voice yelling? Not in the Capitol accent, but in the rougher cadences of home. And I can't help having a vague, comforting feeling that someone is looking out for me.

Then finally, the time arrives when I come to and there's nothing plugged into my right arm. The restraint around my middle has been removed and I am free to move about. I start to sit up but am arrested by the sight of my hands. The skin's perfection, smooth and glowing. Not only are the scars from the arena gone, but those accumulated over years of hunting have vanished without a trace. My forehead feels like satin, and when I try to find the burn on my calf, there's nothing. I slip my legs out of bed, nervous about how they will bear my weight and find them strong and steady. Lying at the foot of the bed is an outfit that makes me flinch.

It's what all of us tributes wore in the arena. I stare at it as if it had teeth until I remember that, of course, this is what I will wear to greet my team.

I'm dressed in less than a minute and fidgeting in front of the wall where I know there's a door even if I can't see it when suddenly it slides open. I step into a wide, deserted hall that appears to have no other doors on it. But it must. And behind one of them must be Peeta.

Now that I'm conscious and moving, I'm growing more and more anxious about him. He must be all right or Finnick wouldn't have said so. Or did I just imagine seeing Finnick? I haven't see anyone else.

"Peeta!" I call out, since there's no one to ask. I hear my name in response, but it's not his voice. It's a voice that provokes first irritation and then eagerness. Effie. I turn and see them all waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall - Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna. My feet take off without hesitation. Maybe a victor should show more restraint, more superiority, especially when she knows this will be on tape, but I don't care. I run for them and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch's arms first.

When he whispers in my ear, "Nice job, sweetheart," it doesn't sound sarcastic. Effie's somewhat teary. Cinna just hugs me tight and doesn't say anything. Then I notice Portia is absent and get a bad feeling. "Where's Portia? Is she with Peeta? He is all right, isn't he? I mean, he's alive?" I blurt out.

"He's fine. Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony," says Haymitch.

"Oh. That's all," I say.

"Go on with Cinna. He has to get you ready," says Haymitch.

Cinna takes me to the prep team where they ready me. When I finish Cinna comes in with what appears to be an unassuming yellow dress across his arms.

"Have you given up the whole 'girl on fire' thing?" I ask.

"You tell me," he says, and slips it over my head. I immediately notice the padding over my breasts, adding curves that hunger has stolen from my body. My hands go to my chest and I frown.

"I know," says Cinna before I can object. "But the Game-makers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise." He stops me before I can look at my reflection. "Wait, don't forget the shoes." Venia helps me into a pair of flat leather sandals and I turn to the mirror.

I am still the "girl on fire." The sheer fabric softly glows. Even the slight movement in the air sends a ripple up my body. By comparison, the chariot costume seems garish, the interview dress too contrived. In this dress, I give the illusion of wearing candlelight.

"What do you think?" asks Cinna.

"I think it's the best yet," I say. When I manage to pull my eyes away from the flickering fabric, I'm in for something of a shock. My hair's loose, held back by a simple hairband. The makeup rounds and fills out the sharp angles of my face. A clear polish coats my nails.

I look, very simply, like a girl. A young one. Fourteen at the most. Innocent. Harmless. Yes, it is shocking that Cinna has pulled this off when you remember I've just won the Games. This is a very calculated look. Nothing Cinna designs is arbitrary. I bite my lip trying to figure out his motivation.

"I thought it'd be something more . . . sophisticated-looking," I say.

"I thought Peeta would like this better," he answers carefully.

Peeta? Why would Peeta care? No, it's not about Peeta. It's about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience. Although I do not yet understand Cinna's design, it's a reminder the Games are not quite finished. And beneath his benign reply, I sense a warning. Of something he can't even mention in front of his own team.

I'm brought back to Haymitch's word from what feels like so long ago, _"Let's just say once you survive the games, and I say survive because nobody wins, they never end."_


	30. Chapter 30 Trouble

**Chapter Thirty: Trouble**

I find myself in a poorly lit area under the stage. A brand-new metal plate has been installed to transport me upward. You can still see small piles of sawdust, smell fresh paint. Cinna and the prep team peel off to change into their own costumes and take their positions, leaving me alone. In the gloom, I see a makeshift wall about ten yards away and assume Peeta's behind it. The rumbling of the crowd is loud, so I don't notice Haymitch until he touches my shoulder. I spring away, startled, still half in the arena, I guess.

"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you," Haymitch says.

I hold out my arms and turn once. "Good enough." It's not much of a compliment.

"But what?" I say.

Haymitch's eyes shift around my musty holding space, and he seems to make a decision. "But nothing. How about a hug for luck?"

Okay, that's an odd request from Haymitch but, after all, we are victors. Maybe a hug for luck is in order. Only, when I put my arms around his neck, I find myself trapped in his embrace. He begins talking, very fast, very quietly in my ear, my hair concealing his lips.

"Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious about you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem," says Haymitch.

I feel dread coursing through me now, but I laugh as though Haymitch is saying something completely delightful because nothing is covering my mouth. "So, what?"

"Your only defense can be you were so upset that you could lose your big brother that you weren't responsible for your actions." Haymitch pulls back and adjusts my hairband. "Got it, sweetheart?"

He could be talking about anything now. "Got it," I say. "Did you tell Peeta this?"

"Don't have to," says Haymitch. "He's already there."

"But you think I'm not?" I say, taking the opportunity to straighten a bright red bow tie Cinna must have wrestled him into.

"Since when does it matter what I think?" says Haymitch.

"Better take our places." He leads me to the metal circle."This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it." He kisses me on the forehead and disappears into the gloom.

I tug on my skirt, willing it to be longer, wanting it to cover the knocking in my knees. Then I realize it's pointless. My whole body's shaking like a leaf. Hopefully, it will be put down to excitement. After all, it's my night.

A cold, clammy sweat breaks out on my skin and I can't rid myself of the feeling that the boards above my head are about to collapse, to bury me alive under the rubble. When I left the arena, when the trumpets played, I was supposed to be safe. From then on. For the rest of my life. But if what Haymitch says is true, and he's got no reason to lie, I've never been in such a dangerous place in my life.

It's so much worse than being hunted in the arena. There, I could only die. End of story. But out here Prim, my mother, Finnick, Gale, the people of District 12, everyone I care about back home could be punished if I can't pull off the girl-driven-crazy-by-losing her brother scenario Haymitch has suggested.

So I still have a chance, though. Funny, in the arena, when I poured out those berries, I was only thinking of outsmarting the Gamemakers, not how my actions would reflect on the Capitol. But the Hunger Games are their weapon and you are not supposed to be able to defeat it.

So now the Capitol will act as if they've been in control the whole time. As if they orchestrated the whole event, right down to the double suicide. But that will only work if I play along with them.

It didn't take long for me to accept Peeta as my brother, and to love him like I do Prim, or to have the protectiveness of him like I do Prim. But did I do it out of anger at the Capitol? Or because of how it would be viewed back in District 12? Or simply because it was the only decent thing to do? Or because I cared about Peeta? I don't have time to think about it now, except that my answer to all of those questions is yes.

And right now, the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games is about to begin.

The anthem booms in my ears, and then I hear Caesar Flickerman greeting the audience. Does he know how crucial it is to get every word right from now on? He must. He will want to help us. The crowd breaks into applause as the prep teams are presented. I imagine Flavius, Venia, and Octavia bouncing around and taking ridiculous, bobbing bows. It's a safe bet they're clueless.

Then Effie's introduced. How long she's waited for this moment. I hope she's able to enjoy it because as misguided as Effie can be, she has a very keen instinct about certain things and must at least suspect we're in trouble. Portia and Cinna receive huge cheers, of course, they've been brilliant, had a dazzling debut.

I now understand Cinna's choice of dress for me for tonight. I'll need to look as girlish and innocent as possible. I'll need to look like the innocent little sister that Peeta keeps calling me.

Haymitch's appearance brings a round of stomping that goes on at least five minutes. Well, he's accomplished a first. Keeping not only one but two tributes alive. What if he hadn't warned me in time? Would I have acted differently? Flaunted the moment with the berries in the Capitol's face? No, I don't think so. But I could easily have been a lot less convincing than I need to be now.

Right now. Because I can feel the plate lifting me up to the stage. Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there's Peeta just a few yards away.

He looks so clean and healthy, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and bounce myself into his arms. I remember when I was a little girl and my dad would come back late from hunting and i would be bouncing to get in his arms, and thats how I feel now. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that's when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane.

He rights himself and pulls me back at arms length to look at me and the audience goes insane. And I can tell that he really does see me as his little sister. That he thinks of me as someone to protect, you can see it in his eyes and so does the audience. I don't feel like that little girl that needs to be protected. In fact I feel the opposite, like i still need to protect him. But I don't act like it. Instead I throw myself back into his arms and let him spin me in a small circle.

The whole time I'm thinking Do you know? Do you know how much danger we're in?

Caesar Flickerman taps guides us toward the victor's chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a second chair. Instead of sitting next to Peeta I fold myself onto the floor at his feet and look at him like I'm a doting little sister. One look at Haymitch tells me this was the right decision, and he smiles and nods. Peeta automatically puts his hand on my shoulder protectively.

Caesar Flickerman makes a few more jokes, and then it's time for the show. This will last exactly three hours and is required viewing for all of Panem. As the lights dim and the seal appears on the screen, I realize I'm unprepared for this. I do not want to watch my twenty-two fellow tributes die. I saw enough of them die the first time. My heart starts pounding and I have a strong impulse to run.

How have the other victors faced this alone? During the highlights, they periodically show the winner's reaction up on a box in the corner of the screen. I think back to earlier years . . . some are triumphant, pumping their fists in the air, beating their chests. Most just seem stunned. All I know is that the only thing keeping me on this floor is Peeta and his hand on my shoulder. Of course, the previous victors didn't have the Capitol looking for a way to destroy them.

Condensing several weeks into three hours is quite a feat, especially when you consider how many cameras were going at once. Whoever puts together the highlights has to choose what sort of story to tell. This year, for the first time, they tell a different kind of story. I know Peeta and I won, but a disproportionate amount of time is spent on us, right from the beginning.

I'm glad though, because it supports the whole I couldn't bare to kill my brother thing that's my defense for defying the Capitol, plus it means we won't have as much time to linger over the deaths.

The first half hour or so focuses on the pre-arena events, the reaping, the chariot ride through the Capitol, our training scores, and our interviews. There's this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because, of course, almost everyone on-screen is dead.

Once we're in the arena, there's detailed coverage of the bloodbath and then the filmmakers basically alternate between shots of tributes dying and shots of us. Mostly Peeta really, there's no question he's carrying the 'I'm a big brother thing' on his shoulders. Now I see what the audience saw, how he misled the Careers about me, stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree, fought Cato to let me escape.I seem heartless in comparison - dodging fireballs, dropping nests, and blowing up supplies - until I go hunting for Rue.

They play her death in full, and it isn't acting when I hide my face in Peeta's leg not wanting to watch it again, and its perfect when he pats my back comforting me. But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers.

Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion.

Things pick up for me once they've announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta's name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I've seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine.

And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it's my best moment all night.

The anthem's playing yet again and we rise as President Snow himself takes the stage followed by a little girl carrying a cushion that holds the crown. There's just one crown, though, and you can hear the crowd's confusion - whose head will he place it on? - until President Snow gives it a twist and it separates into two halves. He places the first around Peeta's brow with a smile. He's still smiling when he settles the second on my head, but his eyes, just inches from mine, are as unforgiving as a snake's.

That's when I know that even though both of us would have eaten the berries, I am to blame for having the idea. I'm the instigator. I'm the one to be punished.

Much bowing and cheering follows. My arm is about to fall off from waving when Caesar Flickerman finally bids the audience good night, reminding them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews. As if they have a choice.


	31. Chapter 31 Interview

**Chapter Thirty One: Interview**

Peeta and I are whisked to the president's mansion for the Victory Banquet, where we have very little time to eat as Capitol officials and particularly generous sponsors elbow one another out of the way as they try to get their picture with us. Face after beaming face flashes by, becoming increasingly intoxicated as the evening wears on.

Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of Haymitch, which is reassuring, or President Snow, which is terrifying, but I keep laughing and thanking people and smiling as my picture is taken. The one thing I never do is let go of Peeta's arm.

I have about five minutes to eat a bowl of hot grain and stew before the prep team descends. All I have to say is, "The crowd loved you!" and it's unnecessary to speak for the next couple of hours. When Cinna comes in, he shoos them out and dresses me in a white, gauzy dress and pink shoes. Again I feel like a young girl.

The interview takes place right down the hall in the sitting room. A space has been cleared and a couch has been moved in. There are only a handful of cameras to record the event. No live audience at least.

Caesar Flickerman gives me a warm hug when I come in. "Congratulations, Katniss. How are you faring?"

"Fine. Nervous about the interview," I say.

"Don't be. We're going to have a fabulous time," he says, giving my cheek a reassuring pat.

"I'm not good at talking about myself," I say.

"Nothing you say will be wrong," he says. And I think, Oh, Caesar, if only that were true. But actually, President Snow may be arranging some sort of "accident" for me as we speak.

Then Peeta's there looking handsome in red and white, pulling me off to the side. "I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart."

We sit somewhat formally on the couch.

Someone counts backward and just like that, we're being broadcast live to the entire country. Caesar Flickerman is wonderful, teasing, joking, getting choked up when the occasion presents itself. He and Peeta already have the rapport they established that night of the first interview, that easy banter, so I just smile a lot and try to speak as little as possible. I mean, I have to talk some, but as soon as I can I redirect the conversation back to Peeta.

Eventually though, Caesar begins to pose questions that insist on fuller answers. "Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that you only found out about Katniss the day of the reaping, but how did you form such a bond so fast?" Caesar says.

"As soon as I knew, something in my head just clicked. I always felt like I was tied to Katniss when we were growing up, I just didn't understand it until that day. And i knew I would always try to protect her, from anything. So I spent time in training trying to get to know her better and the more I got to know her the closer I felt and the more resolved I was that it was my job to protect her," says Peeta.

"But, Katniss, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you start to trust him. When did you accept he was your brother?" asks Caesar.

"Oh, that's a hard one . . ." I give a faint, breathy laugh and look down at my hands. Help.

"Well, I know when it hit me. The night when you shouted out his name from that tree," says Caesar.

Thank you, Caesar! I think, and then go with his idea. "Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about it, honestly, because it was it only made things worse if I actually cared about him, if i acctually recognized he was my brother but I was lying to myself. I was constantly worried about him. I accepted he was my brother immediately, his story, it made sense and I knew it was the truth. But then, in the tree, everything changed," I say.

"Why do you think that was?" urges Caesar.

"Maybe . . . because for the first time . . . there was a chance I could keep him," I say.

Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I've said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he's so moved.

I can feel Peeta press his hand in mine and he says, "Don't worry little sister, your stuck with me now."

I turn in to him. "You say that like its a threat." I laugh.

"Not to you, to anyone who tries to hurt you." He is laughing when he says it but I can tell he is serious. And when he ruffles my hair, like only a brother can, people in the room acctually aww.

For Caesar, this is a natural place to segue into all the ways we did get hurt in the arena, from burns, to stings, to wounds. But it's not until we get around to the mutts that I forget I'm on camera. When Caesar asks Peeta how his "new leg" is working out.

"New leg?" I say, and I can't help reaching out and pulling up the bottom of Peeta's pants. "Oh, no," I whisper, taking in the metal-and-plastic device that has replaced his flesh.

"No one told you?" asks Caesar gently. I shake my head.

"I haven't had the chance," says Peeta with a slight shrug.

"It's my fault," I say. "Because I used that tourniquet."

"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive," says Peeta.

"He's right," says Caesar. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it." I guess this is true, but I can't help feeling upset about it to the extent that I'm afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face under Peeta's arm.

"Katniss, I know you've had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind . . . hm?" he says.

I take a long pause before I answer, trying to collect my thoughts. This is the crucial moment where I either challenged the Capitol or went so crazy at the idea of losing Peeta that I can't be held responsible for my actions. It seems to call for a big, dramatic speech, but all I get out is one almost inaudible sentence. "I don't know, I just . . . couldn't bear the thought of . . . losing him, esspecially after I just found him."

"Peeta? Anything to add?" asks Caesar. "No. I think that goes for both of us," he says.

Caesar signs off and it's over. Everyone's laughing and crying and hugging, but I'm still not sure until I reach Haymitch. "Okay?" I whisper.

"Perfect," he answers.


	32. Chapter 32 Going Home

**Chapter Thirty Two: Going Home**

They drive us through the streets in a car with blackened windows, and the train's waiting for us. We barely have time to say good-bye to Cinna and Portia, although we'll see them in a few months, when we tour the districts for a round of victory ceremonies. It's the Capitol's way of reminding people that the Hunger Games never really go away. We'll be given a lot of useless plaques, and everyone will have to pretend they love us.

As we board the train I see someone sitting on the couch, I'm nervous, then I see who it is.

"Finnick," I yell and run to him. He hold out his arms and I run right into them. He holds me close and kisses me softly, knowing we have an audience.

"I told you I would make sure to see you again before you left," He whispers.

"Are you coming to district 12?" I ask him excitedly.

He shakes his head, "Just getting a lift to district 4, but I promise, I will see you soon."

The train begins moving and we're plunged into night until we clear the tunnel and I take my first free breath since the reaping. Effie is accompanying us back and Haymitch, too, of course. We eat an enormous dinner and settle into silence in front of the television to watch a replay of the interview. With the Capitol growing farther away every second, I begin to think of home. Of Prim and my mother. Of Gale. I excuse myself to change out of my dress and into a plain shirt and pants. As I slowly, thoroughly wash the makeup from my face and put my hair in its braid, I begin transforming back into myself.

When I come back out, its just Finnick waiting. He is laying on the couch. When he sees me he opens his arms to me, and I easily fall into them.

"You are so beautiful," he tells me and it makes me blush.

"I wish you were coming home with me." I tell him, and its the truth.

"Me too. If not before I will see you at the victory tour." I groan, thinking of the tour. "What is it?"

I look around not sure if I can talk safely. He nods that I can.

"Well the Capitol isn't happy with me. They think that I pulled out the berries to be rebellious and now I have to prove to them that I didn't."

He nods, knowing already but asks, "Did you?"

"I did it because there is no way I could let Peeta die for me, I do love him, and I feel like he really is my brother, like I feel for Prim and I couldn't kill him. But also.. in that moment, I hated the Capitol so strongly. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. I wanted it to be on my terms, not theirs." I sigh.

"My little rebel," he half laughs, kissing the top of my head.

"I wouldn't change a single thing I did, but now I've put everyone I love in danger. I truly hate the Capitol. And even though I'm out of the arena, the games are just beginning."

"I know how you feel. Your not the only one who hates them by far. And your right, the games are just beginning. I've been playing the games for a long time now." He looks like he wants to say more but holds his tongue. I want to press him on it but I can tell he won't tell me.

There are so many things I want to ask him about. What was Haymitch's meeting about? What was he doing in the Capitol? But I don't want to right now. I just want him to hold me for as long as he can.

I look up at him and kiss him lightly. He kisses me back immediately, deepening the kiss. His lips feel so soft against mine, and then his tongue is in my mouth and he tastes so good, I can't seem to get enough. Sparks are flying in my head. His hands are on my back and in my hair pulling me closer to him, and I don't feel like i could ever be close enough.

I'm not sure how long we kiss like that, but eventually he pulls back, touching my forehead to his. Looking into his eyes he says, "We're going to be okay baby, we're gonna survive the capitol."

And I want to ask him what he means, but I don't. I don't want to ruin the moment. And all I can think about is that no body has ever called me baby, but I liked it.

We fall asleep linked together like that on the couch. And for the first time in a long time, I sleep soundly, feeling safe in his arms.

In the morning we are woken up by someone clearing their throat. I sit up immediately blushing, as I see Peeta looking down at us. Finnick sits up too but doesn't let go of me. Peeta is still glaring at Finnick unsure of whether to trust him or not. Finnick doesn't seem phased by it. We all eat breakfast together when we pull into district four.

Finnick pulls me to him and kisses me, not caring that people are watching. He tells me he will see me soon and that in the mean time he will call me.

I can feel Peeta watching us the whole time. When Finnick steps off the train and we are moving again I look at Peeta, "Really? Taking the protectivness a little to far?"

"I don't think so," He replies.

"I don't either," says Haymitch. I glare at Haymitch. "Someone needs to watch out for you sweetheart." is all he says. And in my head I hear him say, _It will look good for the Capitol, don't push it._

I sigh, and nod my understanding to him. Except that I know Peeta isn't acting. Its going to be strange having someone look out for me. But I smile, thats what brothers are for right?

 **And this completes the portion based on the hunger games. I was thinking about starting a new story to go with the next part in the story but why? Why not just continue and keep going? So that is what I am going to do.**


	33. Chapter 33 Being Home

**Part Two**

 **Chapter Thirty Three: Being Home**

I sit, as motionless as the rock beneath me, while the dawn begins to lighten the woods. I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been dreading for months. By noon they will all be at my new house in the Victor's Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Effie Trinket, my old escort, will have made their way to District 12 from the Capitol for the Victory Tour.

If it were up to me, I would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. Never speak of them. Pretend they were nothing but a bad dream. But the Victory Tour makes that impossible. Strategically placed almost midway between the annual Games, it is the Capitol's way of keeping the horror fresh and immediate. Not only are we in the districts forced to remember the iron grip of the Capitol's power each year, we are forced to celebrate it.

Of all the bad things I got from the hunger games (the nightmares, the capitol breathing down my neck, having had to kill people...) I would have never known about my family. I would have never known my biological father, or met my brothers. And I would have never met Finnick.

I think back to the day I got home and the first conversation I had with my mother.

"Katniss... I, I don't know what to say except I'm sorry I didn't tell you." my mother tells me.

I nod, at this point I had already accepted Peeta as my brother. I only really have one question for her, "Did Dad know?" I'm not sure I want to know the answer. Because if he didn't know, would he have really loved me if he had? Would he have hated me and cast me aside? I don't if I could live with that.

"Yes Katniss, he did. He knew before we got married, but he loved you so much. He loved you as if you were his daughter. To him you were his daughter."

Talking to Peeta's dad, my biological father was awkward at first. We greeted each other when we returned to district 12. After we got through the tough parts, it was easier. We haven't exactly taken on the father/ daughter role but we are friends and he recognizes me as family. Rye and Nate accepted me as their sister easily. They joke with me and tease me whenever i see them. Peeta's mom won't even look at me. But I don't really care much for her either so I'm happy if she is avoiding me.

The sun persists in rising, so I make myself stand. All my joints complain and my left leg has been asleep for so long that it takes several minutes of pacing to bring the feeling back into it. I've been in the woods three hours, but as I've made no real attempt at hunting, I have nothing to show for it. It doesn't matter for my mother and little sister, Prim, anymore. They can afford to buy butcher meat in town, although none of us likes it any better than fresh game. But my best friend, Gale Hawthorne, and his family will be depending on today's haul and I can't let them down. I start the hour-and-a-half trek it will take to cover our snare line. Back when we were in school, we had time in the afternoons to check the line and hunt and gather and still get back to trade in town. But now that Gale has gone to work in the coal mines — and I have nothing to do all day—I've taken over the job.

I think of Gale, who is only really alive in the woods, with its fresh air and sunlight and clean, flowing water. I don't know how he stands it. Well ... yes, I do. He stands it because it's the way to feed his mother and two younger brothers and sister. And here I am with buckets of money, far more than enough to feed both our families now, and he won't take a single coin. It's even hard for him to let me bring in meat, although he'd surely have kept my mother and Prim supplied if I'd been killed in the Games. I tell him he's doing me a favor, that it drives me nuts to sit around all day. Even so, I never drop off the game while he's at home. Which is easy since he works twelve hours a day.

The only time I really get to see Gale now is on Sundays, when we meet up in the woods to hunt together. It's still the best day of the week, but it's not like it used to be before, when we could tell each other anything. The Games have spoiled even that. I keep hoping that as time passes we'll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it's futile. There's no going back.

Seeing Gale isn't the only reason Sunday is the best day of the week. Every Sunday, Finnick calls me at 3 o'clock. I never thought I would have use of the phone in the house in victors village until the first time Finnick called. I haven't gotten to see him unfortunately, but I will get to see him in a few days when we reach District 4, his home district. That is the one, and the only good thing about the Victory Tour.

The first Sunday we were back home Finnick called, and Gale was over at the house. Before I got off the phone, Gale left the house upset by my conversation. He didn't talk to me for the next week but he met me out in the woods the following Sunday and acted like nothing happened. We had a fun morning hunting together until it was time for me to head home for my phone call. I remember our conversation:

"Where are you going?" he asked

"Its almost time for Finnick to call. I don't want to miss it." I can tell I'm smiling as I say his name.

"Finnick, as in Finnick Odair?" he sneers

"Yes" I say simply.

"Oh God Katniss, What have you gotten yourself into now?"

And suddenly, I'm mad at him. "Why can't you just be happy for me Gale?"

He ignores my question and asks another one of his own, "Do you love him?"

"Yes, yes I do." And I know I do without a doubt. "Why are you mad Gale?"

He didn't answer me, and I walked away. But every Sunday he meets me in the woods, and every Sunday when I leave he doesn't say anything, but he looks mad.

The sun is well up but the time I make it to the fence that surrounds District 12. I wriggle through the opening at the bottom of the fence and come up in the Meadow, just a stone's throw from my home. My old home. We will still get to keep it since officially it's the designated dwelling of my mother and sister. If I should drop dead right now, they would have to return to it. But at present, they're both happily installed in the new house in the Victor's Village, and I'm the only one who uses the squat little place where I was raised. To me, it's my real house.

I go there now to switch my clothes. Exchange my father's old leather jacket for a fine wool coat that always seems too tight in the shoulders. Leave my soft, worn hunting boots for a pair of expensive machine made shoes that my mother thinks are more appropriate for someone of my status.

Before heading out I allow myself a few minutes to sit in the kitchen. It has an abandoned quality with no fire on the hearth, no cloth on the table. I mourn my old life here. We barely scraped by, but I knew where I fit in, I knew what my place was in the tightly interwoven fabric that was our life. I wish I could go back to it because, in retrospect, it seems so secure compared with now, when I am so rich and so famous and so hated by authorities in the Capitol.

Then again, I would never have come to care for the rest of my family I never knew about. Although I would have blissfully been ignorant about the whole thing for the rest of my life. Thinking about it, I would much rather know about Peeta, and Nate and Rye. And Thomas too for that matter. Also, I would have never met Finnick.

Finnick- I miss him. I think that is another reason I have been feeling down. A whole part of myself is with him in District 4. I shake my head before I dwell on it too much, I will see him in a few days when we get to District 4.

I gather up the game in my game bag and I take it to Hazelle, Gale's mother before heading into the Hob. It's still odd to drag open the front door with an empty game bag, with nothing to trade, and instead feel the heavy pocket of coins against my hip. I try to hit as many stalls as possible, spreading out my purchases of coffee, buns, eggs, yarn, and oil. As an afterthought, I buy three bottles of white liquor from a one-armed woman named Ripper, a victim of a mine accident who was smart enough to find a way to stay alive.

The liquor isn't for my family. It's for Haymitch. He's surly, violent, and drunk most of the time but no matter who Haymitch is, I owe him, too. And that's for always. As much as Haymitch and I clash, mostly because we are so alike, I see him as family now too. And I try to look out for him like he did me and Peeta in the Games. I'm getting the white liquor because a few weeks ago he ran out and there was none for sale and he had a withdrawal, shaking and screaming at terrifying things only he could see. He scared Prim to death and, frankly, it wasn't much fun for me to see him like that, either. Ever since then I've been sort of stockpiling the stuff just in case there's a shortage again.

Cray, our Head Peacekeeper, frowns when he sees me with the bottles. He's an older man with a few strands of silver hair combed sideways above his bright red face. "That stuff's too strong for you, girl." He should know. Next to Haymitch, Cray drinks more than anyone I've ever met.

"Aw, my mother uses it in medicines," I say indifferently.

"Well, it'd kill just about anything," he says, and slaps down a coin for a bottle.

When I reach Greasy Sae's stall, I boost myself up to sit on the counter and order some soup, which looks to be some kind of gourd and bean mixture. A Peacekeeper named Darius comes up and buys a bowl while I'm eating. As law enforcers go, he's one of my favorites. Never really throwing his weight around, usually good for a joke. He's probably in his twenties, but he doesn't seem much older than I do. Something about his smile, his red hair that sticks out every which way, gives him a boyish quality.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a train?" he asks me.

"They're collecting me at noon," I answer.

"Shouldn't you look better?" he asks in a loud whisper. I can't help smiling at his teasing, in spite of my mood. "Maybe a ribbon in your hair or something?" He flicks my braid with his hand and I brush him away.

"Don't worry. By the time they get through with me I'll be unrecognizable," I say.

"Good," he says. "Let's show a little district pride for a change, Miss Everdeen. Hm?" He shakes his head at Greasy Sae in mock disapproval and walks off to join his friends.

"I'll want that bowl back," Greasy Sae calls after him, but since she's laughing, she doesn't sound particularly stern.

"I just can't wait for the whole thing to be over," I whisper.

"I know," says Greasy Sae. "But you've got to go through it to get to the end of it. Better not be late."

Snow.


	34. Chapter 34 Surprises

**Chapter Thirty Four: Surprises**

A light snow starts to fall as I make my way to the Victor's Village. It's about a half-mile walk from the square in the center of town, but it seems like another world entirely.

It's a separate community built around a beautiful green, dotted with flowering bushes. There are twelve houses, each large enough to hold ten of the one I was raised in. Nine stand empty, as they always have. The three in use belong to Haymitch, Peeta, and me.

The houses inhabited by my family and Peeta give off a warm glow of life. Lit windows, smoke from the chimneys, bunches of brightly colored corn affixed to the front doors as decoration for the upcoming Harvest Festival. However, Haymitch's house, despite the care taken by the grounds-keeper, exudes an air of abandonment and neglect. I brace myself at his front door, knowing it will be foul, then push inside.

My nose immediately wrinkles in disgust. Haymitch refuses to let anyone in to clean and does a poor job himself. Over the years the odors of liquor and vomit, boiled cabbage and burned meat, unwashed clothes and mouse droppings have intermingled into a stench that brings tears to my eyes. I wade through a litter of discarded wrappings, broken glass, and bones to where I know I will find Haymitch. He sits at the kitchen table, his arms sprawled across the wood, his face in a puddle of liquor, snoring his head off.

I nudge his shoulder. "Get up!" I say loudly, because I've learned there's no subtle way to wake him. His snoring stops for a moment, questioningly, and then resumes. I push him harder. "Get up, Haymitch. It's tour day!"

I force the window up, inhaling deep breaths of the clean air outside. My feet shift through the garbage on the floor, and I unearth a tin coffeepot and fill it at the sink. The stove isn't completely out and I manage to coax the few live coals into a flame. I pour some ground coffee into the pot, enough to make sure the resulting brew will be good and strong, and set it on the stove to boil.

Haymitch is still dead to the world. Since nothing else has worked, I fill a basin with icy cold water, dump it on his head, and spring out of the way. A guttural animal sound comes from his throat. He jumps up, kicking his chair ten feet behind him and wielding a knife. I forgot he always sleeps with one clutched in his hand. I should have pried it from his fingers, but I've had a lot on my mind. Spewing profanity, he slashes the air a few moments before coming to his senses. He wipes his face on his shirtsleeve and turns to the windowsill where I perch, just in case I need to make a quick exit.

"What are you doing?" he sputters.

"You told me to wake you an hour before the cameras come," I say.

"What?" he says.

"Your idea," I insist.

He seems to remember. "Why am I all wet?"

"You wouldn't wake up."

Suddenly I hear foot steps running down his stairs. "Someone here Haymitch?"

For the first time, he actually smiles at me, "As a matter of fact.."

He doesn't finish because as he is talking Finnick comes around the corner. "Finnick!" I shout and run to him.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, taking me into his arms and kissing me feverishly.

"When did you get here?" I ask him pulling back just enough so our foreheads are touching.

"Just a few hours ago with your train." He smiles at me, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." I kiss him again.

"Good grief, you two make me sick." Haymitch interrupts us but he is smiling when he says it.

Finnick takes in Haymitch's appearance for the first time, "Why are you all wet Haymitch?"

Haymitch rolls his eyes at me.

"I couldn't shake you awake," I say. "If you wanted to be babied, you should have asked Peeta."

Finnick laughs.

"Asked me what?" Peeta asks, I watch as Peeta crosses to the table. He looks strong and healthy, so different from the sick, starving boy I knew in the arena, and you can barely even notice his limp now. He sets a loaf of fresh bread on the table and holds his hand out to Haymitch.

"Asked you to wake me without giving me pneumonia," says Haymitch, passing over his knife.

Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch's knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirt tail and slices the bread.

Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked bread goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks, and I've learned that Finnick ties knots or swims. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thoughts of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay.

Peeta hands a slice to Haymitch then offers one to me. "No thanks," I say, "I ate at the hob and I've got to get presentable for the cameras." I gulp and drag Finnick over to my house with me not willing to let him out of my sight yet.

My mom and Prim have heard a lot about Finnick, and I can't wait to introduce him to them.

"Nervous?" I ask him as we walk up the steps to the front door.

He doesn't get a chance to answer before the door wrenches open and my mother is stand there. My mother gives an odd, breathy laugh and removes the game bag loaded with supplies from my shoulder. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"Walk?" She knows I've been in the woods half the night. Then I see the man standing behind her in the kitchen doorway. One look at his tailored suit and surgically perfected features and I know he's from the Capitol. Something is wrong. I glance worriedly at Finnick, "It was more like skating. It's really getting slippery out there."

"Someone's here to see you," says my mother. Her face is too pale and I can hear the anxiety she's trying to hide. Then I see she notices Finnick holding my hand, she smiles briefly, "You must be Finnick, its nice to meet you finally, I've heard so much about you."

"It's nice to meet you too Mrs. Everdeen." he smiles at my mother, but looks at the Capitol man with concern.

"I thought they weren't due until noon." I pretend not to notice her state. "Did Cinna come early to help me get ready?"

"No, Katniss, it's —" my mother begins.

"This way, please, Miss Everdeen," says the man. He gestures down the hallway. It's weird to be ushered around your own home, but I know better than to comment on it.

As I go, I give my mother a reassuring smile over my shoulder. "Probably more instructions for the tour." They've been sending me all kinds of stuff about my itinerary and what protocol will be observed in each district. I try to let go of Finnick's hand but he squeezes it tighter, and I'm grateful for it. But as I walk toward the door of the study, a door I have never even seen closed until this moment, I can feel my mind begin to race. Who is here? What do they want? Why is my mother so pale?

"Go right in," says the Capitol man, who has followed me down the hallway.

I twist the polished brass knob and step inside. My nose registers the conflicting scents of roses and blood. A small, white-haired man who seems vaguely familiar is reading a book. He holds up a finger as if to say, "Give me a moment." Then he turns and my heart skips a beat.

I'm staring into the snakelike eyes of President Snow.


	35. Chapter 35 Snow

**This is a long chapter but I wanted the whole visit with President Snow in one chapter..**

 **Chapter Thirty Five: Snow**

In my mind, President Snow should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with over sized flags. It's jarring to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the room. Like taking the lid off a pot and finding a fanged viper instead of stew.

What could he be doing here? My mind rushes back to the opening days of other Victory Tours. I remember seeing the winning tributes with their mentors and stylists. Even some high government officials have made appearances occasionally. But I have never seen President Snow. He attends celebrations in the Capitol. Period.

If he's made the journey all the way from his city, it can only mean one thing. I'm in serious trouble. And if I am, so is my family. Then I panic and look at Finnick, was he supposed to know about us? Well its too late now. A shiver goes through me when I think of the proximity of my mother and sister to this man who despises me. Will always despise me. Because I outsmarted his sadistic Hunger Games, made the Capitol look foolish, and consequently undermined his control.

All I was doing was trying to keep Peeta and myself alive. Any act of rebellion was purely coincidental. But when the Capitol decrees that only one tribute can live and you have the audacity to challenge it, I guess that's a rebellion in itself. I don't regret it for a minute, and part of me is satisfied that I defied the Capitol, until I think of the consequences. My only defense was that I couldn't imagine losing my brother, that we couldn't bring ourselves to kill each other. So we were both allowed to live. To be crowned victors. To go home and celebrate and wave good-bye to the cameras and be left alone. Until now.

Perhaps it is the newness of the house or the shock of seeing him or the mutual understanding that he could have me killed in a second that makes me feel like the intruder. As if this is his home and I'm the uninvited party. So I don't welcome him or offer him a chair. I don't say anything. In fact, I treat him as if he's a real snake, the venomous kind. I stand motionless, my eyes locked on him, considering plans of retreat.

"Hmm Mr. Odair, should I act surprised to see you here or can we skip that foolishness?"

He knows, he knows Finnick and I are together. If he knows that, what else does he know? Neither Finnick or I respond to him.

"I think we'll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other," he says. "What do you think?"

I think my tongue has frozen and speech will be impossible, so I surprise myself by answering back in a steady voice, "Yes, I think that would save time."

President Snow smiles and I notice his lips for the first time. I'm expecting snake lips, which is to say none. But his are overly full, the skin stretched too tight. I have to wonder if his mouth has been altered to make him more appealing. If so, it was a waste of time and money, because he's not appealing at all. "My advisors were concerned you would be difficult, but you're not planning on being difficult, are you?" he asks.

"No," I answer.

"That's what I told them. I said any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn't going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there's her family to think of. Her mother, her sister, and all those brothers and even a father now, not to mention all those cousins. And now even a lover? " By the way he lingers on the word "cousins," I can tell he knows that Gale and I don't share a family tree.

During the Games when the interviewed our family and friends everyone directed them to Gale, and to keep the innocent little girl image it wouldn't do if I had Gale as my best friend, so somehow he became my cousin.

Well, it's all on the table now. Maybe that's better. I don't do well with ambiguous threats. I'd much rather know the score.

"Let's sit." President Snow takes a seat at the large desk of polished wood where Prim does her homework and my mother her budgets. Like our home, this is a place that he has no right, but ultimately every right, to occupy. I sit in front of the desk on one of the carved, straight-backed chairs. It's made for someone taller than I am, so only my toes rest on the ground. Finnick sits next to me, still holding onto my hand.

"I have a problem, Miss Everdeen," says President Snow. "A problem that began the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena."

That was the moment when I guessed that if the Gamemakers had to choose between watching Peeta and me commit suicide—which would mean having no victor— and letting us both live, they would take the latter.

"If the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, had had any brains, he'd have blown you to dust right then. But he had an unfortunate sentimental streak. So here you are. Can you guess where he is?" he asks.

I nod because, by the way he says it, it's clear that Seneca Crane has been executed. The smell of roses and blood has grown stronger now that only a desk separates us. There's a rose in President Snow's lapel, which at least suggests a source of the flower perfume, but it must be genetically enhanced, because no real rose reeks like that. As for the blood ... I don't know.

"After that, there was nothing to do but let you play out your little scenario. And you were pretty good, too. The people in the Capitol were quite convinced. Unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for your act," he says.

"What act?" Finnick asks him with a hint of venom in his voice. "Peeta is most certainly her brother."

"Yes he is," The president agrees, "However, I do believe we both know that Miss Everdeen isn't an innocent niave little girl, because even you Finnick have better taste than that."

He continues "Of course, you don't know about, eh other districts. You have no access to information about the mood in other districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with the berries as an act of defiance, not an act of family. And if a girl from District Twelve, of all places, can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same?" he says. "What is to prevent, say, an uprising?"

It takes a moment for his last sentence to sink in. Then the full weight of it hits me. "There have been uprisings?" I ask, both chilled and somewhat elated by the possibility.

"Not yet. But they'll follow if the course of things doesn't change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution." President Snow rubs a spot over his left eyebrow, the very spot where I myself get headaches. "Do you have any idea what that would mean? How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse."

I'm taken aback by the directness and even the sincerity of this speech. As if his primary concern is the welfare of the citizens of Panem, when nothing could be further from the truth. I don't know how I dare to say the next words, but I do. "It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down." I see Finnick smile in the corner of my eye.

There's a long pause while he examines me. Then he simply says, "It is fragile, but not in the way that you suppose."

There's a knock at the door, and the Capitol man sticks his head in. "Her mother wants to know if you want tea."

"I would. I would like tea," says the president. The door opens wider, and there stands my mother, holding a tray with a china tea set she brought to the Seam when she married. "Set it here, please." He places his book on the corner of the desk and pats the center.

My mother sets the tray on the desk. It holds a china teapot and cups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies. They are beautifully iced with softly colored flowers. The frosting work can only be Peeta's.

"What a welcome sight. You know, it's funny how often people forget that presidents need to eat, too," President Snow says charmingly. Well, it seems to relax my mother a bit, anyway.

"Can I get you anything else? I can cook something more substantial if you're hungry," she offers.

"No, this could not be more perfect. Thank you," he says, clearly dismissing her. My mother nods, shoots me a glance, and goes. President Snow pours tea for both of us and fills his with cream and sugar, then takes a long time stirring. I sense he has had his say and is waiting for me to respond.

"I didn't mean to start any uprisings," I tell him.

"I believe you. It doesn't matter. Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem," he says.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" I blurt out.

"Katniss," Finnick tugs on my hand eyes wide.

I shrug to Finnick in response.

"Publicly?" he asks ignoring Finnick. "That would only add fuel to the flames."

"Arrange an accident, then," I say.

"Who would buy it?" he asks. "Not you, if you were watching."

"Then what do you want me to do?," I say.

"If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?"

"Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie.

"Peeta. How is your dearest big brother?" he asks.

"Good," I say.

"At what point did he realize your not as innocent as you seem?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea.

"Who says I'm not?" I say.

"I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. Mr. Odair care to fill Miss Everdeen in on how this works?"

Finnick looks horrified, "No, please don't..." he is begging the President. I look at him in confusion.

The Preseident laughs, "She doesn't know, does she?" he laughs some more, "That is just wonderful." He thinks for a moment, "Don't worry Mr. Odair it wouldn't do me good to have Miss Everdeen do what you do, esspecially when the public needs to think of her as a sweet innocent little girl."

Do what he does, what is he talking about? I see Finnick visiably relax.

"And since you two have gone public, and the whole country will soon know. Which I am not happy about either," he looks at both us us accusingly.

Now I've gotten Finnick into this mess, I look at him saying sorry with my eyes then it hits me, "How have we gone public?"

"Well let me see Miss Everdeen, you two have the rumor mill buzzing. Lets see, it started with Mr. Odair being one of your sponsors, the hospital was vibrating with Finnick's appearance in your room, then with your goodbye at the train station just confirmed it. Of course the whole country doesn't know about your weekly phone calls and I suppose we could write that off as one of Mr Odair's many many women, but that wouldn't do for how I am portraying you, now would it."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Finnick asks him directly.

He holds up his hand to Finnick as if to say 'Not yet', "That brings me to something else Miss Everdeen, how is the handsome cousin?"

"I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for all of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off.

"Speak, Miss Everdeen. Unlike Mr. Odair, I can easily kill him off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday."

If he knows all this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ...It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen.

We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. It was just another Sunday after I came back. We talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because it was almost time for my phone call with Finnick. Then suddenly, as I was saying goodbye, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale—watching him talk and laugh and frown — that I would know all there was to know he was about to do this. When he let go he said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. I had a whole speech prepared for the next Sunday about how I was with Finnick, but Gale acted like nothing happened. So instead of using it I just made a point to talk abotu Finnick a lot.

This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done?

"Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now."

"I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta and Finnick, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says.

"It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in the sweet little sister like I was," I say.

"Just as you are," corrects President Snow.

"Just as I am," I confirm.

"Only you'll have to do even better if the uprisings are to be averted, and you will gradually become public with your love for Mr. Odair. A victor romance may be just what they need to distract them," he says. "This tour will be your only chance to turn things around."

"I know. I will. I'll convince everyone in the districts that I wasn't defying the Capitol," I say.

"Mr. Odair, I'm afraid you got yourself dragged into this mess. You are to be desperately in love with Miss Everdeen, captured by her innocence, if you will. I'll expect your trysts in the Capitol will end if you are to look serious, you are to demonstrate yourself as a changed man." President Snow addresses Finnick.

"Yes sir," I see Finnick smile quickly then it disappears.

President Snow rises and dabs his puffy lips with a napkin. "Aim higher in case you fall short."

"What do you mean? How can I aim higher?" I ask.

"Convince me" he says. He drops the napkin and retrieves his book. I don't watch him as he heads for the door, so I flinch when he whispers in my ear.

"By the way, I know about the kiss." Then the door clicks shut behind him.


	36. Chapter 36 Aftermath

**Chapter Thirty Six: Aftermath**

The smell of blood ... it was on his breath. _What does he do?_ I think. _Drink it?_ I imagine him sipping it from a teacup. Dipping a cookie into the stuff and pulling it out dripping red.

The room seems to be spinning in slow, lopsided circles, and I wonder if I might black out. I lean forward to clutch the desk for support and Peeta's beautiful cookie drops to the floor in crumbs. I didn't even know I was crushing it. My other hand still holds Finnick's I look to see both of our fingers are white from my squeezing so hard but I guess I had to hold on to something while my world veered out of control.

Finnick reaches for me and brings me down so I'm sitting in his lap. He's released my hand and I feel the tingling of pins and needles as blood starts to circulate. Finnick places his arms around me as if to shield me.

A visit from President Snow. Districts on the verge of uprisings. A direct death threat to Gale, with others to follow. Everyone I love doomed. Finnick dragged into this mess with me. And who knows who else will pay for my actions? Unless I turn things around on this tour. Quiet the discontent and put the president's mind at rest. And how? By proving to the country beyond any shadow of a doubt that Peeta Mellark is my brother, and that I am a sweet innocent little sister. And by distracting them with an innocent romance.

 _I can't do it_ , I think. _I'm not that good_. Peeta's the good one, the likable one. He can make people believe anything. I'm the one who shuts up and sits back and lets him do as much of the talking as possible. But it isn't Peeta who has to prove himself. It's me.

I turn to Finnick, "I'm so sorry I brought you into this, you must hate me."

"No Kat, I could never hate you. And I was already in it anyways," he says pulling me onto his lap, "Katniss, this isn't as bad as it could have been. He isn't going to kill you or make you do awful things."

Then it hits me, "He did awful things to you didn't he?" and the president laughed because I didn't know.

He nods, quickly hiding his face from me but I think I see tears in his eyes, "I will... I will tell you, just not right now."

I nod. Not wanting to push him. He has already had awful things done to him by the Capitol and here I am getting his life risked again. "What if I can't do it?" I whisper.

Finnick turns me in his lap so I'm facing him completely. "Are you in love with Gale, did anything happen with him?"

I shake my head, "No Finnick, I don't love him. We are just friends. Except.." I know I have to tell him, "Except weeks ago, Gale kissed me, but it didn't mean anything to me, and I didn't kiss him back. There isn't anything going on with him I promise." Suddenly I'm paniced that he will be mad, "Please believe it Finnick, I don't have any feelings for him except friendship, its you I..."

He smiles then, "Its me you what?"

I take a deep breath, "Its you I.. love." I tell him.

"And I love you Kat." He kisses me and smiles again.

I'm so happy by hearing his words I almost forget that President Snow was in this room with us a few minutes ago.

"Then we can do this," he begins."Peeta is truly your brother, yes?" I nod. "We are in love, yes?" I nod again. "Then all you have to do is make sure the whole country knows what is already true. Yes we will have to be very careful about how we make things look but we can do it."

"We have to." I tell him, knowing we don't have a choice.

"Haymitch will help." Finnick says. I nod knowing we have to tell him. As my mentor in the Games it was his duty to keep me alive. I only hope he's still up for the job.

"We can't tell Peeta," I say. "He's already got his part down, he doesn't need be scared. He will be better off if he doesn't know."

"Its not a part," Finnick says, "He really does take protecting you seriously, but your trying to protect him just as much."

I sigh, "Finnick we are still playing the games aren't we?" Internally I smack myself for not taking Haymitch's warning seriously before the arena.

He nods saddly, "Except that these games are bigger than the arena, and they never end."

Outside the window, a car comes to life, soft and quiet like the purr of a cat, then fades away into the distance. It slips off as it arrived, unnoticed.

I hear my mother's light, quick tread in the hall. She can't know, I think. Not about any of this. I reach my hands over the tray and quickly brush the bits of cookie from my palm and fingers. Standing up from Finnick's lap, I take a shaky sip of my tea.

"Is everything all right, Katniss?" she asks.

"It's fine. We never see it on television, but the President always visits the victors before the tour to wish them luck," I say brightly I look at Finnick hoping he catches on.

My mother's face floods with relief. "Oh. I thought there was some kind of trouble."

"No, not at all," I say. "The trouble will start when my prep team sees how I've let my eyebrows grow back in." My mother laughs, and I think about how there was no going back after I took over caring for the family when I was eleven. How I will always have to protect her.

"Why don't I start your bath?" she asks.

"Great," I say, and I can see how pleased she is by my response.

"Will you be joining us for lunch, Finnick?" my mother asks.

Finnick looks at me, and I nod. "I would love to, Mrs. Everdeen."

Since I've been home I've been trying hard to mend my relationship with my mother. Asking her to do things for me instead of brushing aside any offer of help, as I did for years out of anger. Letting her handle all the money I won. Returning her hugs instead of tolerating them. My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing her for something she couldn't help, specifically the crushing depression she fell into after my father's death. Looking at Finnick, how would I react if I lost him? I shake the thought from my head before it even has time to register. Because if I let the thought sink in... I shudder inwardly. Because sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them. Like me, for instance. Right now.

As we exit the room Prim is standing there waiting for us. Without missing a beat Finnick says, "Well if it isn't the famous Miss Primrose Everdeen," he says taking her hand and bowing formally, "Its an honor."

Prim smiles blushing, "Well Mr. Finnick Odair, I believe it is you who is indeed famous."

They both laugh, and I can tell they are going to get along just fine. I smile at both of them. Prim heads into the kitchen to start lunch, and to her surprise and mine, Finnick asks if he can help. She accepts. Finnick kisses me on the forehead. Before heading into the kitchen after Prim he gives me a serious, intense look that makes my breathing quicken and my knees shake. When he is out of sight I head upstairs to my bath.


	37. Chapter 37 Preparation

**Chapter Thirty Seven: Preparation**

I slip into my bath and try to block out everything around me. Trying to force the visit with Snow out of my mind.

Even underwater I can hear the sounds of commotion. Honking car horns, shouts of greeting, doors banging shut. It can only mean my entourage has arrived. I just have time to towel off and slip into a robe before my prep team bursts into the bathroom. There's no question of privacy. When it comes to my body, we have no secrets, these three people and me.

"Katniss, your eyebrows!" Venia shrieks right off, and even with the black cloud hanging over me, I have to stifle a laugh.

Octavia comes up and pats Venia's back soothingly, "There, there. You can fix those in no time. But what am I going to do with these nails?" She grabs my hand and pins it flat between her two pea green ones. It's true. I've bitten my nails to stubs in the past couple of months. I thought about trying to break the habit but couldn't think of a good reason I should. "Sorry," I mutter. I hadn't really been spending much time worrying about how it might affect my prep team.

Flavius lifts a few strands of my wet, tangled hair. "Has anyone touched this since you last saw us?" he asks sternly. "Remember, we specifically asked you to leave your hair alone."

"Yes!" I say, grateful that I can show I haven't totally taken them for granted. "I mean, no, no one's cut it. I did remember that." No, I didn't. It's more like the issue never came up. Since I've been home, all I've done is stick it in its usual old braid down my back.

This seems to mollify them, and they all kiss me, set me on a chair in my bedroom, and, as usual, start talking nonstop without bothering to notice if I'm listening.

"Katniss, Did I see Finnick Odair downstairs?"

I nod, and they all gush about how gorgeous he is, and how they heard the rumors about us and how I am so lucky. They tell me all about the Capitol. And how much of a hit the games were. The are excited for Peeta and me to visit the Capitol, and after that they will be gearing up for the Quarter Quell.

"Isn't it thrilling?"

"Don't you feel so lucky?"

"In your very first year of being a victor, you get to be a mentor in a Quarter Quell!"

Their words overlap in a blur of excitement.

"Oh, yes," I say neutrally. It's the best I can do. In a normal year, being a mentor to the tributes is the stuff of nightmares. I can't walk by the school now without wondering what kid I'll have to coach. But to make things even worse, this is the year of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games, and that means it's also a Quarter Quell. They occur every twenty-five years, marking the anniversary of the districts' defeat with over-the-top celebrations and, for extra fun, some miserable twist for the tributes. I've never been alive for one, of course. But in school I remember hearing that for the second Quarter Quell, the Capitol demanded that twice the number of tributes be provided for the arena. The teachers didn't go into much more detail, which is surprising, because that was the year District 12's very own Haymitch Abernathy won the crown.

"Haymitch better be preparing himself for a lot of attention!" squeals Octavia.

Haymitch has never mentioned his personal experience in the arena to me. I would never ask. And if I ever saw his Games televised in reruns, I must've been too young to remember it. But the Capitol won't let him forget it this year. In a way, it's a good thing Peeta and I will both be available as mentors during the Quell, because it's a sure bet that Haymitch will be wasted.

My mother comes in, somewhat shyly, and says that Cinna has asked her to show the preps how she did my hair the day of the reaping. They respond with enthusiasm and then watch, thoroughly engrossed, as she breaks down the process of the elaborate braided hairdo. In the mirror, I can see their earnest faces following her every move, their eagerness when it is their turn to try a step. In fact, all three are so readily respectful and nice to my mother that I feel bad about how I go around feeling so superior to them. Who knows who I would be or what I would talk about if I'd been raised in the Capitol?

When my hair is done, I find Cinna downstairs in the living room, and just the sight of him makes me feel more hopeful. He looks the same as always, simple clothes, short brown hair, just a hint of gold eyeliner. We embrace, and I can barely keep from spilling out the entire episode with President Snow. But no, we need to tell Haymitch first. He'll know best who to burden with it. It's so easy to talk to Cinna, though. I've been talking to him on the phone often now though, working on my talent.

Every victor is supposed to have one. Your talent is the activity you take up since you don't have to work either in school or your district's industry. It can be anything, really, anything that they can interview you about. Peeta, it turns out, actually has a talent, which is painting. He's been frosting those cakes and cookies for years in his family's bakery. But now that he's rich, he can afford to smear real paint on canvases. I don't have a talent, unless you count hunting illegally, which they don't. Or maybe singing, which I wouldn't do for the Capitol in a million years. My mother tried to interest me in a variety of suitable alternatives from a list Effie Trinket sent her. Cooking, flower arranging, playing the flute. None of them took, although Prim had a knack for all three. Finally Cinna stepped in and offered to help me develop my passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was nonexistent. But I said yes because it meant getting to talk to Cinna, and he promised he'd do all the work.

Now he's arranging things around my living room: clothing, fabrics, and sketchbooks with designs he's drawn. I pick up one of the sketchbooks and examine a dress I supposedly created. "You know, I think I show a lot of promise," I say.

"Get dressed, you worthless thing," he says, tossing a bundle of clothes at me.

I may have no interest in designing clothes but I do love the ones Cinna makes for me. Like these. Flowing black pants made of a thick, warm material. A comfortable white shirt. A sweater woven from green and blue and gray strands of kitten-soft wool. Laced leather boots that don't pinch my toes.

"Did I design my outfit?" I ask.

"No, you aspire to design your outfit and be like me, your fashion hero," says Cinna. He hands me a small stack of cards. "You'll read these off camera while they're filming the clothes. Try to sound like you care."

While I was in the living room I could hear Finnick and Prim talking in the kitchen. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could tell they were having a good time. Every once in awhile my mother would join in. I find myself smiling.

Interupting my thoughts, Effie Trinket arrives in a pumpkin orange wig to remind everyone, "We're on a schedule!" She kisses me on both cheeks while waving in the camera crew, then orders me into position. Effie's the only reason we got anywhere on time in the Capitol, so I try to accommodate her. I start bobbing around like a puppet, holding up outfits and saying meaningless things like "Don't you love it?" The sound team records me reading from my cards in a chirpy voice so they can insert it later, then I'm tossed out of the room so they can film my/Cinna's designs in peace.

Prim stands in the kitchen, being interviewed by another crew. She looks lovely in a sky blue frock that brings out her eyes, her blond hair pulled back in a matching ribbon. She's leaning a bit forward on the toes of her shiny white boots like she's about to take flight, like—

Bam! It's like someone actually hits me in the chest. No one has, of course, but the pain is so real I take a step back. I squeeze my eyes shut and I don't see Prim, I see Rue, the twelve year old girl from District 11 who was my ally in the arena. She could fly, birdlike, from tree to tree, catching on to the slenderest branches. Rue, who I didn't save. Who I let die.

Who else will I fail to save from the Capitol's vengeance? Who else will be dead if I don't satisfy President Snow?

I feel soft familiar fingers on my face. "Katniss, its okay," he whispers in my ear pressing his forehead onto mine. "Nothing is going to happen to her, or any of them, okay?" He reassures me as if he could read my mind. I nod, and smile at him.

I'm suddenly aware that the camera crew is in my house and they are ecstatic with the footage of us. Finnick kisses my forehead and helps me put my jacket on. I want to be held in Finnick's arms and for him to kiss me, really kiss me but I know we can't in front of the camera. That wouldn't look innocent enough.

My mother hurries up with something cupped in her hand. "For good luck," she 's the pin Madge gave me before I left for the Games. A mockingjay flying in a circle of gold. I tried to give it to Rue but she wouldn't take it. She said the pin was the reason she'd decided to trust me. Cinna fixes it on my jacket.

Effie Trinket's nearby, clapping her hands. "Attention, everyone! We're about to do the first outdoor shot, where the victors greet each other at the beginning of their marvelous trip. All right, Katniss, big smile, you're very excited, right?" I don't exaggerate when I say she shoves me out the door.

For a moment I can't quite see right because of the snow, which is now coming down in earnest. Then I make out Peeta coming through his front door. In my head I hear President Snow's directive, "Convince me." And I know I must.

I see Peeta walking towards me with his hands behind his back, smiling playfully at me. I raise my eyebrow at him, knowing he is up to something.

He greets me, "Enjoying the snow little sister?"

I smile nodding yes, "Are you?"

He nods and reveals the snow ball he was hiding behind his back tossing it between his hands.

"You wouldn't..."

He smiles and lobs it at me, hitting me square in the chest and he is running away from me. I quickly pick up a handful of snow and chase after him squealing. I don't know if I have ever squealed in my life, but it seems fitting now. As i'm chasing him I silently thank him, he didn't even know about my talk with President Snow but he acted perfectly.

Effie corrals us and manages to get us to the train station. I hug my mom and Prim saying goodbye, while Peeta hugs his father and brothers. I notice his mother isn't present. I walk to Rye and Nate to say goodbye and they wish me luck. Then I walk over to Thomas, my father. I call him by his first name because Mr. Mellark seemed too formal and Dad didn't seem comfortable enough, at least not yet. But for the cameras, I run up to him hugging him. He takes me in his arms and spins me. I can tell he senses what I needed for the cameras.

"Good luck, baby girl." He tells me.

I reply, "Thank you daddy." And he kisses my cheek before telling Peeta to look after me.

Its a very fitting sweet innocent little girl scene. Perfect for the cameras.

We all sit down to eat an indescribably delicious meal on the train. And then I'm swathed in pajamas and a voluminous robe, sitting in my plush compartment. Peeta's door is across from mine. Finnick's is down the hallway a little ways. I'm waiting for everyone to fall asleep. I know Haymitch will be up for hours. He doesn't like to sleep when it's dark out.

When the train seems quiet, I put on my slippers and pad down to his door which is across from Finnick's. I have to knock several times before he answers, scowling, as if he's certain I've brought bad news. And truthfully, I have.


	38. Chapter 38 Confessions

**Chapter Thirty Eight: Confessions**

"What do you want?" he says, nearly knocking me out with a cloud of wine fumes.

"I have to talk to you," I whisper.

"Now?" he says. I nod. "This better be good." He waits, but I feel certain every word we utter on a Capitol train is being recorded. "Well?" he barks.

The train starts to brake and for a second I think President Snow is watching me and doesn't approve of my confiding in Haymitch and has decided to go ahead and kill me now. But we're just stopping for fuel.

"The train's so stuffy," I say.

It's a harmless phrase, but I see Haymitch's eyes narrow in understanding. "I know what you need." He pushes past me and lurches down the hall to a door. When he wrestles it open, a blast of snow hits us. He trips out onto the ground. Finnick joins us.

A Capitol attendant rushes to help, but Haymitch waves her away good-naturedly as he staggers off. "Just want some fresh air. Only be a minute."

"Sorry. He's drunk," I say apologetically. "I'll get him." I hop down and stumble along the track behind him, soaking my slippers with snow, as he leads me beyond the end of the train so we will not be overheard. Then he turns on me.

"What?" I tell him everything. About the president's visit, about Gale, about how we're all going to die if I fail. Finnick helps me remember every detail.

His face sobers, grows older in the glow of the red tail-lights. "Then you can't fail."

"If you could just help us get through this trip—" I begin.

"No, Katniss, it's not just this trip," he says.

"What do you mean?" I say.

"Even if you pull it off, they'll be back in another few months to take us all to the Games. You and Peeta, you'll be mentors now, every year from here on out. And every year they'll revisit the family drama and broadcast the details of your private life. And Finnick your a mentor too, you'll be in the Capitol together, and they will want to know everything about your relationship and you'll never, ever be able to do anything but live happily ever after together."

The full impact of what he's saying hits me. I will never be allowed to live alone. I will never have a moment of privacy. I will have to be forever in love with Finnick. The Capitol will insist on it. I'll have a few years maybe, because I'm still only sixteen, to stay with my mother and Prim. And then ... and then ...

"Do you understand what I mean?" he asks both of us.

I nod. He means there's only one future, if I want to keep those I love alive and stay alive myself. I'll have to marry Finnick. I look at Finnick, I feel like I've forced him into this.

"Its not so bad, it could be worse. Your in love with each other, that is easy to see. He will want to use your romance to distract the county and it will work, if we play it in the right manor. Peeta will play the over protective brother, and Finnick you will have to sweep her off her feet like you are courting her so we don't lose the innocent little sister thing. It can work. Are you both willing to commit to this?" Its almost like he is thinking out loud to himself.

I look at Finnick, what choice do we have? We both nod.

"Well good thing is this will get you out of your requirements with the capitol, but that will make it harder to keep the innocent look," Haymitch says to Finnick. Then to me, "You will have to play your part perfectly."

We head back to the train. "By the way, the train is safe, no bugs. Beetee secured it for us." Haymitch tells us.

"Then why did we come out here?" I ask

Haymitch just shrugs.

We get to the train and Haymitch goes into his room slamming the door. Finnick follows me into my room. I sit down on the bed and Finnick sits too. Suddenly I feel a wave of guilt come over me.

"I'm so sorry Finnick. I.. I can't ask you to do this." I look straight ahead as a say it, not being able to look at him.

"Katniss, I want to do this." he says.

I shake my head, "Your being forced into this..." I start and he interrupts me.

"Katniss.." When I don't look at him he turns me and holds my face so I'm looking at him. Not forcefully but tender. "I'm not being forced into this. I want to be with you. I want to help you. I would be here even if I didn't need to be because I love you and I don't want to be without you."

I process what he's saying taking it all in. Can he really mean it? He must see that I'm wavering because he continues. "Katniss, love, for a long time now I haven't believed in love, haven't believed in a happy ending, the Capitol has taken that away from me. But now because of you I do believe in it."

I nod, and I believe him. "I love you." I say quietly.

He smiles, "I love you."

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask him.

He nods. I ask the question I've been waiting to find out.

"Finnick," I say quietly, "What was your requirement to the capitol."

He takes a deep breath, "Promise you won't hate me Katniss?" by the look on his face I can tell he is scared.

"I promise Finnick." There is nothing he could ever say that would make me hate him.

It takes him a few minutes to begin, "I was young when I won my games, only 14. Everyone loved me and desired me. When I was 15 President snow called me to visit him and told me that every woman in the Capitol wanted me and that they would pay to spend a night with me. I was horrified at his suggestion, and told him I didn't want to do it. The women in the Capitol disgusted me. He told me I had to, that I didn't have a choice. I didn't understand what he meant. How could anyone force me to have sex with women if I didn't want to? So I refused. He told me about what happened to Haymitch, the last tribute who refused. He told me that he took away everyone that he loved. But I was young and naive and I still refused. I thought that I could protect them. When I returned to my district I found the President had arranged and 'accident' my father was burned to death in our old house. I can see the tears in his eyes and I want to tell him to stop that he doesn't have to tell me everything but I also know that I have to know. "He told me that if I didn't do it, my mother and my sister Annie would be next. So to keep them safe I agreed. And so for the last five years I..." he can't bring himself to say it, but I know. He laid back on my bed, hands covering his face.

And I am furious! Absolutely furious! How dare they do that? How dare they kill his father? And Haymitch, that explains a lot about him. How many victors are they doing this to? I'm so mad, I'm pacing. The Capitol thinks they can do anything they want with anyone. And they have been allowed to do that. I want to stop them. It's more than that even, I want to kill President Snow. And then I'm even more furious because I can't do that. That kind of thinking is the exact kind of thinking that got me in this situation in the first place.

Finnick stands up, and it stops my pacing. I can see the hurt on his face, "Its okay if you hate me Katniss, I would hate me too." He puts his hand over his face and continues, "I should have told you sooner before you got involved with me.. I.. I, I'm sorry." He moves to leave, when I stop him.

I realize he must have thought my rage was at him. "No Finnick, don't leave. I'm not mad at you."

"But..."

I cross the room and put my hands on either side of his face, "I'm not mad at you Finnick, I'm furious, the the Capitol, at President Snow. Not you. You didn't have a choice. And I hate him for forcing you to do that. And I'm even more furious because I can't do anything about it." And then Finnick is comforting me.

"I love you Kat, so much."

"I love you too Finnick."

We hold each other for a while longer. I remember from our conversations over the phone that his mother isn't alive anymore either, "Did they kill your mother?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, "No, she died from a heart attack."

"I'm sorry." I tell him.

He just nods, "Annie is all I have left. And every year I'm afraid that she will be reaped." I remember him telling me the Annie is 11 now. She will be in the reaping next year. Prim has 5 years left.

Angry tears start running down my face and it makes me even more angry that I can't stop them. "Here we are trying to squash uprisings and rebellion in the districts and all I want to do is raise them. I don't want to stop a rebellion, I want to squash the Capitol! I want to take and arrow to President Snow's heart." I shock myself saying those things out loud. "But we can't. Because if we do..." I trail on.

Finnick nods understanding. "I know. I know exactly how you feel Kat."

Finnick takes me in his arms and lays us down on the bed. "We can do this. We can."

We stare into each others eyes and our intense emotions turn in a different direction. I'm not sure who initiated the kiss, but it is unlike any kiss I have ever experienced before. Even though my history of kissing is limited. Our lips lock together and the taste of of his tongue on mine makes me shiver in pleasure. We are both on our sides my fingers running through his hair and down his back. Everywhere his hands touch me, on my back, down my arms, up my leg, leave a trail of fire tingling on my skin. I'm not sure how long we kiss like that but I never want it to end.

Eventually we break apart breathless. My lips are tingling and slightly swollen. Finnick holds me close to him and I don't resist happy to be in his embrace. For a while we don't say anything we just enjoy being in each other's company. My ear lays over his heart and I am content to listen to his rhythmic heart beat.

After what must be a few hours Finnick sighs, "Haymitch is right, we will have to play this game for as long as we live."

"I know. But at least we can do it together." Then I think about Haymitch referring to marriage and can't help but feel like he is forced, "Finnick if you don't want this, we can maybe find a way out of it."

"What are you talking about?" He turns on his side so he is facing me, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you Katniss Everdeen, I just wish we could do it on our terms, not the Capitols."

"I never thought I would get married." I tell him honestly.

"Why not? Too good for all the district 12 boys?" he jokes with me.

I roll my eyes at him playfully, "Because, I don't want to bring children into this world where they could be reaped and have to go through what we did."

He nods, "I understand, but by the time our kids are old enough their won't be a hunger games anymore."

I like the way he said our kids, and I smile to myself. "What makes you so sure?" I say not believing him.

"I just do. But I better get back to my room so you can get some sleep before your first stop."

"Okay," I say wishing he would stay but to shy to ask him.

"I love you Kat," he says then kisses me.

"I love you too Finnick," I kiss him back. and then he is gone.


	39. Chapter 39 Paintings

**Chapter Thirty Nine: Paintings**

I don't sleep though after Finnick leaves. My mind just won't stop.

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. If we do, they'll have to face the reaping each year. And wouldn't it be something to see the child of not one but two victors chosen for the arena? Victors' children have been in the ring before. It always causes a lot of excitement and generates talk about how the odds are not in that family's favor. But it happens too frequently to just be about odds. Gale's convinced the Capitol does it on purpose, rigs the drawings to add extra drama. Given all the trouble I've caused, I've probably guaranteed any child of mine a spot in the Games.

I think of Haymitch, unmarried, no family, blotting out the world with drink. He could have had his choice of any woman in the district. And he chose solitude. Not solitude— that sounds too peaceful. More like solitary confinement. I wonder if he did have a girl he loved, and the Capitol killed her because he refused to play their games. Now that he has nobody they can't touch him. I feel a little envious of that but only for a second. What would I do without my family? Without Finnick?

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I wake up to nightmares. Its not long after that that Effie is knocking on my door.

I pull on whatever clothes are at the top of the drawer and drag myself down to the dining car. I don't see what difference it makes when I get up, since this is a travel day, but then it turns out that yesterday's makeover was just to get me to the train station. Today I'll get the works from my prep team.

"Why? It's too cold for anything to show," I grumble.

"Not in District Eleven," says Effie.

District 11. Our first stop. I'd rather start in any other district, since this was Rue's home. But that's not how the Victory Tour works. Usually it kicks off in 12 and then goes in descending district order to 1, followed by the Capitol. The victor's district is skipped and saved for very last. Since 12 puts on the least fabulous celebration — usually just a dinner for the tributes and a victory rally in the square, where nobody looks like they're having any fun — it's probably best to get us out of the way as soon as possible. This year, for the first time since Haymitch won, the final stop on the tour will be 12, and the Capitol will spring for the festivities.

The kitchen staff clearly wants to please me. They've prepared my favorite, lamb stew with dried plums, among other delicacies. Orange juice and a pot of steaming hot chocolate wait at my place at the table. So I eat a lot, and the meal is beyond reproach, but I can't say I'm enjoying it. I'm also annoyed that no one but Effie and I has shown up.

"Where's everybody else?" I ask.

"Oh, who knows where Haymitch is," says Effie. I didn't really expect Haymitch, because he's probably just getting to bed. "Cinna was up late working on organizing your garment car. He must have over a hundred outfits for you. Your evening clothes are exquisite. I heard Finnick get to bed late," she eyes me,"And Peeta's team is probably still asleep."

"Doesn't he need prepping?" I ask.

"Not the way you do," Effie replies.

I sigh. For some reason I am miserable and grumpy through my preparations. By the time I reach lunch, where Effie, Cinna, Portia, Haymitch, and Peeta have started without me, I'm too weighed down to talk. Where is Finnick? They're raving about the food and how well they sleep on trains. Everyone's all full of excitement about the tour. Well, not everyone. Haymitch is nursing a hangover and picking at a muffin. I'm not really hungry, either, maybe because I loaded up on too much rich stuff this morning or maybe because I'm so unhappy. But that isn't entirely true. I am happy. I didn't think it was possible to be unhappy and happy at the same time but here it is. I play around with a bowl of broth, eating only a spoonful or two. I can't even look at Peeta—he knows nothing of the impending doom looming over us—although I know none of this is his fault.

I feel so guilty not telling him what is going on I almost spill it right there. But I know that won't help him. Why bring him in to make him miserable too?

People notice, try to bring me into the conversation, but I just brush them off. At some point, the train stops. Our server reports it will not just be for a fuel stop — some part has malfunctioned and must be replaced. It will require at least an hour. This sends Effie into a state. She pulls out her schedule and begins to work out how the delay will impact every event for the rest of our lives. Finally I just can't stand to listen to her anymore.

"No one cares, Effie!" I snap. Everyone at the table stares at me, even Haymitch, who you'd think would be on my side in this matter since Effie drives him nuts. I'm immediately put on the defensive. "Well, no one does!" I say, and get up and leave the dining car and leaving the train.

I walk along the track, squinting against the bright sunlight, already regretting my words to Effie. She's hardly to blame for my current predicament. I should go back and apologize. My outburst was the height of bad manners, and manners matter deeply to her. But my feet continue on along the track, past the end of the train, leaving it behind. An hour's delay. I can walk at least twenty minutes in one direction and make it back with plenty of time to spare. Instead, after a couple hundred yards, I sink to the ground and sit there, looking into the distance.

After a while I hear footsteps behind me. It'll be Haymitch, coming to chew me out. It's not like I don't deserve it, but I still don't want to hear it. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture," I warn the clump of weeds by my shoes.

"I'll try to keep it brief." Peeta takes a seat beside me.

"I thought you were Haymitch," I say.

"No, he's still working on that muffin." I watch as Peeta positions his artificial leg. "Bad day, huh?"

"It's nothing," I say.

"Get into a fight with Finnick, did you?" he teases me.

"No. Just in a bad mood I guess," I tell him, "Why don't you like Finnick?" I couldn't help but notice all the glares he has given him.

"I do like Finnick," he tells me, "I think he is good for you."

"You do? Then why?"

"I can't let him know I like him, then he will think he can get away with anything and he will pay if he hurts my little sister. Dad did tell me to look after you remember."

I actually laugh. Peeta is so worried about protecting me, when I'm trying to protect him too but he doesn't know from what.

"You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them," I say.

"Well, I've got a whole train car full." He rises and offers me his hand. "Come on." We walk back to the train hand in hand.

At the door, I remember. "I've got to apologize to Effie first."

"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick," Peeta tells me.

So when we go back to the dining car, where the others are still at lunch, I give Effie an apology that I think is overkill but in her mind probably just manages to compensate for my breach of etiquette. To her credit, Effie accepts graciously. She says it's clear I'm under a lot of pressure. And her comments about the necessity of someone attending to the schedule only last about five minutes. Really, I've gotten off easily.

When Effie finishes, Peeta leads me down a few cars to see his paintings. I don't know what I expected. Larger versions of the flower cookies maybe. But this is something entirely different. Peeta has painted the Games, some you wouldn't get right away, if you hadn't been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. A pair of hands, his own, digging for roots. Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. Clove arranging the knives inside her jacket. One of the mutts, unmistakably the blond, green-eyed one meant to be Glimmer, snarling as it makes its way toward us. And me.

I am everywhere. High up in a tree. Beating a shirt against the stones in the stream. Lying unconscious in a pool of blood. In the yellow candle dress from the recap after the games. And one I can't place — perhaps this is how I looked when his fever was high—emerging from a silver gray mist.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"I hate them," I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?"

"I see them every night," he says.

I know what he means. Nightmares — which I was no stranger to before the Games —now plague me whenever I sleep. But the old standby, the one of my father being blown to bits in the mines, is rare. Instead I relive versions of what happened in the arena. My worthless attempt to save Rue. Peeta bleeding to death. Glimmer's bloated body disintegrating in my hands. Cato's horrific end with the mutations. These are the most frequent visitors. "Me, too. Does it help? To paint them out?"

"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am," he says. "But they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't." Haymitch doesn't say so, but I'm sure this is why he doesn't like to sleep in the dark.

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," he says.

"So you really hate them?"

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," I say. And they are. But I don't want to look at them anymore. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it."

Peeta laughs. "Later." The train lurches forward, and I can see the land moving past us through the window. "Come on, we're almost to District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it."


	40. Chapter 40 District 11 Speeches

**Chapter Forty: District 11 Speeches**

Peeta and I go down to the last car on the train. There are chairs and couches to sit on, but what's wonderful is that the back windows retract into the ceiling so you're riding outside, in the fresh air, and you can see a wide sweep of the landscape. Huge open fields with herds of dairy cattle grazing in them. So unlike our own heavily wooded home.

We slow slightly and I think we might be coming in for another stop, when a fence rises up before us. Towering at least thirty-five feet in the air and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire, it makes ours back in District 12 look childish. My eyes quickly inspect the base, which is lined with enormous metal plates. There would be no burrowing under those, no escaping to hunt. Then I see the watchtowers, placed evenly apart, manned with armed guards, so out of place among the fields of wildflowers around them.

"That's something different," says Peeta.

Rue did give me the impression that the rules in District 11 were more harshly enforced. But I never imagined something like this.

Effie comes to tell us its time to get dressed, and we don't object.

I find myself in another silly little girl dress with my hair tied in a ribbon. I feel ridiculous. Having to take over as provider of a family at the age of eleven made me grow up fast, being in the hunger games has aged me. I feel much older than 17, but here I am in this outfit that makes me look 14. I shake my head.

Effie gets Peeta and me together and goes through the day's program one last time. In some districts the victors ride through the city while the residents cheer. But in 11, maybe because there's not much of a city to begin with, things being so spread out, or maybe because they don't want to waste so many people while the harvest is on, the public appearance is confined to the square. It takes place before their Justice Building.

As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Haymitch and Finnick join us. There's no welcoming committee on the paltform, just a squad of 8 Peacekeepers who direct us into the back of an armored truck. Effie sniffs as the door clanks closed behind us. "Really, you'd think we were all criminals." she says.

Finnick looks at me and smirks at her comment. I can't help but smile. She's not exactly wrong. _Not all of us, Effie. Just me_ , I think.

The truck lets us out at the back of the Justice Building. We're hurried inside. Finnick is holding my hand tight. They've left us no time to look around. As we make a beeline for the front entrance, I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me, and Peeta takes my hand as Finnick releases the other one. The mayor is introducing us as the massive doors open with a groan.

"Big smiles!" Effie says, and gives us a nudge.

There's loud applause, but none of the other responses we got in the Capitol, the cheers and whoops and whistles. We walk across the shaded veranda until the roof runs out and we're standing at the top of a big flight of marble stairs in the glaring sun. As my eyes adjust, I see the buildings on the square have been hung with banners that help cover up their neglected state. It's packed with people, but again, just a fraction of the number who live here.

As usual, a special platform has been constructed at the bottom of the stage for the families of the dead tributes. On Thresh's side, there's only an old woman with a hunched back and a tall, muscular girl I'm guessing is his sister. On Rue's ... I'm not prepared for Rue's family. Her parents, whose faces are still fresh with sorrow. Her five younger siblings, who resemble her so closely. The slight builds, the luminous brown eyes. They form a flock of small dark birds.

The applause dies out and the mayor gives the speech in our honor. Two little girls come up with tremendous bouquets of flowers. Peeta does his part of the scripted reply and then I find my lips moving to conclude it. Fortunately my mother and Prim have drilled me so I can do it in my sleep.

Peeta had his personal comments written on a card, but he doesn't pull it out. Instead he speaks in his simple, winning style about Thresh and Rue making it to the final eight, about how they both kept me alive—thereby keeping him alive—and about how this is a debt we can never repay. And then he hesitates before adding something that wasn't written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. "It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we'd like for each of the tributes' families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives."

The crowd can't help but respond with gasps and murmurs. There is no precedent for what Peeta has done. I don't even know if it's legal. He probably doesn't know, either, so he didn't ask in case it isn't. As for the families, they just stare at us in shock. Their lives were changed forever when Thresh and Rue were lost, but this gift will change them again. A month of tribute winnings can easily provide for a family for a year. As long as we live, they will not hunger.

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. The mayor steps forward and presents us each with a plaque that's so large I have to put down my bouquet to hold it. The ceremony's about to end when I notice one of Rue's sisters staring at me. She must be about nine and is almost an exact replica of Rue, down to the way she stands with her arms slightly extended. Despite the good news about the winnings, she's not happy. In fact, her look is reproachful. Is it because I didn't save Rue?

No. It's because I still haven't thanked her, I think.

A wave of shame rushes through me. The girl is right. How can I stand here, passive and mute, leaving all the words to Peeta? If she had won, Rue would never have let my death go unsung. I remember how I took care in the arena to cover her with flowers, to make sure her loss did not go unnoticed. But that gesture will mean nothing if I don't support it now.

"Wait!" I stumble forward, pressing the plaque to my chest. My allotted time for speaking has come and gone, but I must say something. I owe too much. And even if I had pledged all my winnings to the families, it would not excuse my silence today. "Wait, please." I don't know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they've been forming in the back of my mind for a long time.

"I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven," I say. I look at the pair of women on Thresh's side. "I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that." For the first time the old hunched woman — is she Thresh's grandmother? — raises her head and the trace of a smile plays on her lips.

The crowd has fallen silent now, so silent that I wonder how they manage it. They must all be holding their breath.

I turn to Rue's family. "But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim." My voice is undependable, but I am almost finished. "Thank you for your children." I raise my chin to address the crowd. "And thank you all for the bread."

I stand there, feeling broken and small, thousands of eyes trained on me. There's a long pause. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, someone whistles Rue's four-note mocking-jay tune. The one that signaled the end of the workday in the orchards. The one that meant safety in the arena. By the end of the tune, I have found the whistler, a wizened old man in a faded red shirt and overalls. His eyes meet mine.

What happens next is not an accident. It is too well executed to be spontaneous, because it happens in complete unison. Every person in the crowd presses the three middle fingers of their left hand against their lips and extends them to me. It's our sign from District 12, the last good-bye I gave Rue in the arena.

If I hadn't spoken to President Snow, this gesture might move me to tears. But with his recent orders to calm the districts fresh in my ears, it fills me with dread. What will he think of this very public salute to the girl who defied the Capitol?

The full impact of what I've done hits me. It was not intentional—I only meant to express my thanks — but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. This is exactly the kind of thing I am supposed to be defusing! I try to think of something to say to undermine what has just happened, to negate it, but I can hear the slight burst of static indicating my microphone has been cut off and the mayor has taken over. Peeta and I acknowledge a final round of applause. He leads me back toward the doors, unaware that anything has gone wrong.

I feel funny and have to stop for a moment. Little bits of bright sunshine dance before my eyes. "Are you all right?" Peeta asks.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright," I say. I see his bouquet. "I forgot my flowers," I mumble.

"I'll get them," he says.

"I can," I answer.

We would be safe inside the Justice Building by now, if I hadn't stopped, if I hadn't left my flowers. Instead, from the deep shade of the veranda, we see the whole thing. A pair of Peacekeepers dragging the old man who whistled to the top of the steps. Forcing him to his knees before the crowd. And putting a bullet through his head.

A row of Peacekeepers blocks our view. Several of the soldiers have automatic weapons held lengthwise as they push us back toward the door.

"We're going!" says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who's pressing on me.

"We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss." His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. He pulls me close to him as if he could shield me from what I have just seen. The Peacekeepers follow a pace or two behind us. The moment we're inside, the doors slam shut and we hear the Peacekeepers' boots moving back toward the crowd.

Haymitch, Effie, Finnick, Portia, and Cinna wait under a static-filled screen that's mounted on the wall, their faces tight with anxiety.

"What happened?" Effie hurries over. "We lost the feed just after Katniss's beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard a gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!"

"Nothing happened, Effie. An old truck backfired," says Peeta evenly.

Two more shots. The door doesn't muffle their sound much. Who was that? Thresh's grandmother? One of Rue's little sisters?

"Both of you. With me. You too Finnick," says Haymitch. Peeta, Finnick, and I follow him, leaving the others behind. The Peacekeepers who are stationed around the Justice Building take little interest in our movements now that we are safely inside. We ascend a magnificent curved marble staircase. At the top, there's a long hall with worn carpet on the floor. Double doors stand open, welcoming us into the first room we encounter. The ceiling must be twenty feet high. Designs of fruit and flowers are carved into the molding and small, fat children with wings look down at us from every angle. Vases of blossoms give off a cloying scent that makes my eyes itch. Our evening clothes hang on racks against the wall. This room has been prepared for our use, but we're barely there long enough to drop off our gifts. Then Haymitch yanks the microphones from our chests, stuffs them beneath a couch cushion, and waves us on.


	41. Chapter 41 Together

**Chapter Forty One: Together**

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staircases and increasingly narrow halls. At times he has to stop and force a door. By the protesting squeak of the hinges you can tell it's been a long time since it was opened. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. It's a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons. The coat of dust blanketing everything is so thick it's clear it hasn't been disturbed for years. Light struggles to filter in through four grimy square windows set in the sides of the dome. Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us. "What happened?" he asks.

Peeta relates all that occurred in the square. The whistle, the salute, our hesitation on the veranda, the murder of the old man. "What's going on, Haymitch?"

"It will be better coming from you," Haymitch says to me.

I don't agree. I think it will be a hundred times worse coming from me. But I tell Peeta everything as calmly as I can. About President Snow, the unrest in the districts. I don't even omit the kiss with Gale or the distraction of me and Finnick. I lay out how we are all in jeopardy, how the whole country is in jeopardy because of my trick with the berries. "I was supposed to fix things on this tour. . Calm things down. But obviously, all I've done today is. get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished." I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. Finnick sits next to me and pats my back reassuringly.

"Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money," says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. "This has to stop. Right now. This — this—game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I'm too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them." He looks between me and Haymitch with his eye brows raised.

"It's not like that, Peeta—" I begin.

"It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. "I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead if we don't pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, and with our family, don't I even rate the truth from you?"

"You're always so reliably good, Peeta," says Haymitch. "So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today. What do you think is going to happen to Rue's and Thresh's families? Do you think they'll get their share of our winnings? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky if they survive the day!" Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I've never seen him like this.

"He's right, Haymitch," I say. "We were wrong not to tell him. Even back in the Capitol."

"Even in the arena, you two had some sort of system worked out, didn't you?" asks Peeta. His voice is quieter now. "Something I wasn't part of."

"No. Not officially. I just could tell what Haymitch wanted me to do by what he sent, or didn't send," I say.

"Well, I never had that opportunity. Because he never sent me anything until you showed up," says Peeta.

I haven't thought much about this. How it must have looked from Peeta's perspective when I appeared in the arena having received burn medicine and bread when he, who was at death's door, had gotten nothing. Like Haymitch was keeping me alive at his expense.

"Look, boy—" Haymitch begins.

"Don't bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I'd have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we're very good. We all know I'm better than Katniss in front of the cameras. No one needs to coach me on what to say. But I have to know what I'm walking into," says Peeta.

"From now on, you'll be fully informed," Haymitch promises.

"I better be," says Peeta. He doesn't even bother to look at me before he leaves.

The dust he disrupted billows up and looks for new places to land. My hair, my eyes, my shiny gold pin.

"Did you choose me, Haymitch?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says.

"Why? You like him better," I say.

"That's true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive," he says. "I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home."

"Oh" is all I can think to say.

"You'll see, the choices you'll have to make. If we survive this," says Haymitch. "You'll learn."

Well, I've learned one thing today. This place is not a larger version of District 12. Our fence is unguarded and rarely charged. Our Peacekeepers are unwelcome but less brutal. Our hardships evoke more fatigue than fury. Here in 11, they suffer more acutely and feel more desperation. President Snow is right. A spark could be enough to set them ablaze.

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances ... how on earth did I cause so much trouble?

"Come on. We've got a dinner to attend," says Haymitch.

Finnick leads me back down with the guide of his hand on my lower back. I desperately want to touch more of him but I know it will be impossible with no telling how many watchful eyes are on us now. We get to the door of my room and I am relieved we are about to be alone when my prep team shows up. Before they can whisk me away I turn to Finnick, "Will you be at dinner?" I ask him

He shakes his head, "I can't. But as soon as your done.."

I nod. As soon as the dinner is over I will go find him.

An hour later I find myself in a more formal version of the silly dresses I've been wearing. This one doesn't reach my knees and I feel uncomfortable in it. I try pulling it down, but to no avail. I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is an orange and white pattern, I'm wearing small white shoes that are almost flat on the floor and my hair is loose around my shoulders with just the top pulled back in a white ribbon leaving my face visible. I can see Prim wearing this outfit, but this is nothing I would dress myself in.

There's a knock on my door. I open it to find Peeta wearing a suit with a matching orange shirt and a white tie. "Can I come in?" he asks.

I nod and he walks in awkwardly. The awkwardness is heavy in the room and I want to banish it. But I know it's my fault, I should have told him about.. well everything. He has a right to know. After all it is his life too. But I wanted to protect him.

"Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions." says Peeta. "And it isn't as if I haven't kept things from you in the past."

I remember the shock of hearing Peeta confess we were brother and sister to the entire country. Haymitch had known about that and not told me.

"I think I broke a few things myself after that interview." it feels like so long ago now.

"Just an urn." he says.

"And your hands. But we are past that now, I should have told you Peeta. I'm sorry. There's no point in not being straight with each other though, is there?" I say.

"No point." he agrees. Peeta bridges the gap and hugs me. I feel all the awkwardness slip from the room and it makes me relax a little. "Can I ask you a favor Katniss?"

I look at him oddly, "Sure." I say wondering what it might be. We sit down across from one another.

Peeta puts his head in his hands but looks up at me when he says, "Would you please just let me take care of you for once?" he says, and I can see a teasing smile on the edge of his lips, but by his tone I know he is serious.

I shake my head, knowing he already knows my answer anyways, "I can't do that Peeta, you know that. It's not in my nature."

He nods. "We are in this together Kat. No more secrets?" he says seriously.

I nod in return. "No more secrets."

We start to head out towards the dinner when Peeta stops me, "One more thing Kat.." he hesitates.

I nod for him to go on.

There seems to be some kind of internal debate about his next question, "Do you want to spend the rest of your life with Finnick?"

Now I hesitate, not because I don't know the answer just because I feel weird talking to my brother about it. But finally I answer, "Yes. Yes I do."

"He makes you happy?"

Shyly I says, "Yes." and I can feel the blush creep over my skin.

"Okay then." Peeta nods his head and extends his arm to me to lead us to dinner. Peeta's expression seems almost relieved. No not relieved, accepting? No that's not quite it either. I'm not sure what it is, but he seems more at ease.

Before we get to doors leading to the dinner party I stop him having a question of my own. When I stop Peeta turns to me, waiting. "Peeta, is it acting when you are being my 'big brother'?" I ask him. Suddenly I'm afraid for his answer.

I'm relieved when he laughs, "No Katniss. I'm not acting. I really see you as my little sister." He smile drops, "Are you acting when you are being my little sister?"

Now I smile, "No I want to be your little sister. I've just never been a little sister before."

"Well, I've never been an older brother before either. I guess we'll just figure it out together."

I guess that's what we've been doing since the day of the reaping- figuring it out together.


	42. Chapter 42 Caught

**This is a short chapter but I think you will like it! I certainly had fun writing it.**

 **Chapter Forty Two: Caught**

As I expected, dinner was awful. The only thing that gets me through is Peeta sitting next me, reassuring me. And the thought of seeing Finnick afterwards. As soon as I possibly can I make my way to Finnick's door. I don't even bother to change out of my ridiculous outfit first.

When I reach the door I feel shy, for some reason, but I knock quietly anyways.

Finnick pulls the door open immediately and pulls me into his arms. Closing the door behind me he crushes his lips to mine. I kiss him back pulling him closer to me. Still kissing he walks us over to the edge of the bed and sits down.

He pulls back and smiles at me, "Good evening, love" he says greeting me for the first time. He takes in my outfit and an amusing smile plays on his lips, "Nice dress."

I roll my eyes at him. "I feel ridiculous in this dress."

"There is one good thing about these dresses Cinna has you wearing." he smirks.

"What is that?" I ask confused.

He stands me in front of him and puts his hands on the back of my bare knees, he rubs up to my thighs, his hands just under the hem of the dress. My eyes widen and an involuntary shudder runs through my body. Having his hands on my bare skin... there isn't even words for how it makes me feel. He's never touched me like this before and I don't want it to ever stop.

Seeing the affect it's having on me he smirks and he moves his hands a little higher. His hands completely hidden under my dress. I hear myself moan and I have no idea where is come from. In response I bite my lip, feeling embarrassed. I look at Finnick and I see I'm not the only one affected.

Grasping my legs he pulls me down on top of him so I'm straddling him. My shoes fall to the floor and my hands are aching to touch him. Our lips find each others and I lean into him, knocking us flat on the bed, me on top of him still. His arms wrap around my waist, his hands on my bare back. His lips leave mine but only to be replaced on my neck and I never want this to end.

We are both shook back to reality when there is a knock on the door. Finnick and I both freeze. We take a moment to catch our breath. Then I quickly stand up off of him, rearranging my dress. Finnick walks to the door. He waits to open it until I am sitting cross legged on his bed with my skirt covering my legs. Only my knees stick out on each side.

Shaking his head, almost in disbelief he opens the door.

"Hey Finnick, can we talk a minute?" When I hear Peeta's voice my face instantly turns red.

"Of course," Finnick answers.

Peeta walks in the room and stops in surprise when he seems me. I see Finnick raise his eyebrows at me from behind him. Peeta recovers quickly, "Funny seeing you here so late baby sister." Peeta raises his eyebrows and I know it has a completely different meaning than Finnick's.

I smile and I can feel the blush creep into my face again. Not just little sister, baby sister is what he called me. _I'm in trouble now,_ I think. I feel like I've been caught by my father.

"Just as surprised as I am to see you." I counter quickly. What is he doing here this late anyways?

"I think it's about time for you to head to bed, isn't Katniss?" Peeta suggests not so subtlety.

Peeta obviously wants to talk to Finnick without me. I look to Finnick to make sure he's okay with it. Finnick nods. I stand up from the bed and looking at Peeta I walk over to Finnick. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him. Finnick doesn't hesitate to kiss him back. "Goodnight Fin." I whisper.

"Goodnight, love." He whispers back.

I smile as I walk over to Peeta and kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight big brother." I say sweetly.

Seeing through it, Peeta rolls his eyes at me, "Go to bed Katniss." he says sternly but I can tell from his smile he's not mad.

I close the door behind me and I want to stand against the door and listen but I know that would be wrong. I'm tempted to do it anyways but I see someone up ahead. I make my way to my door, when the person notices me.

"Oh Katniss, I thought you had gone to bed already." I hear Effie's voice as she comes to stand by me.

"I was just getting something to drink." i tell her.

That seems to placate her and she starts to walk towards her own door when she hesitates, "Katniss, where are your shoes?"

I look down at my feet, noticing I'm barefoot for the first time. I know exactly where my shoes are, "I took them off." I say quickly, "They pinched my toes."

"Regardless, you can't be walking around the hallways with bare feet. Next time make sure to put something on." She admonishes me.

I agree and quickly head to my room smiling. Tonight turned out not to be so bad after all.


	43. Chapter 43 District 4

**Chapter Forty Three: District 4**

Shortly after I return to me room and start to get ready for bed. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my hair is tangled, my lips swollen, eyes wide and bright, dress wrinkled. Now I'm more embarrassed. Peeta and Effie both saw me looking this way. Well, _it's too late now,_ I think.

Before even getting into bed I know I'm not going to be able to sleep. I'm wondering about what Finnick and Peeta are talking about. Why would Peeta want to talk to Finnick without me there? He's not laying down rules and lecturing him, is he? I hope not.

Eventually, I do fall asleep. But it's restless and full of nightmares. Nightmares haunt my dreams, almost every night.

The next morning comes and we are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it's the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of towering forests, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train.

On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Even without our personal speeches to trigger dissent, needless to say the ones we gave in District 11 were edited out before the event was broadcast, you can feel something in the air, the rolling boil of a pot about to run over. Not everywhere. Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victor's ceremonies. But in others, there is genuine elation in the face of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. When they chant my name, it is more of a cry for vengeance than a cheer. When the Peacekeepers move in to quiet an unruly crowd, it presses back instead of retreating. And I know that there's nothing I could ever do to change this. Nothing will turn this tide. If my holding out those berries was an act of temporary insanity, then these people will embrace insanity, too.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don't work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Finnick, usually hears me and manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness together, wrapped in each other's arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens except maybe some heated kissing, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

When we reach District 4, Finnick's district, Haymitch decides that its time to distract the people. Finnick and I will appear publicly in love for the first time.

After the ceremonies in district 4, Finnick takes me on a date. He takes me to the sea. As soon as we set foot on the sand I can tell Finnick is at home here. He instructs me to take my shoes and socks off and I do curiously. We stash them under a dock and start walking barefoot in the sand. The sand feels squishy between my toes. Its an odd sensation, but I like it.

The beach has several people out and about and we make sure they all see us, strolling hand and hand. The sun starts to set and we settle in to watch it. Finnick sits with his legs apart and I sit down in the middle with my back against his chest. He pulls me closer to him. I feel safe in his arms, and comfortable. With his feet Finnick is burying my feet in the sand. Once the sun is completely set and the moon comes out, I turn around and kiss him softly, remembering to keep it sweet in front of others.

We stand and continue walking hand in hand down the beach. Soon, there is nobody out on the beach and we both relax a little bit. Finnick walks me to a dock behind a house, he tells me it's his house. He suggests we go swimming and I accept.

Finnick starts taking off his clothes until he has only he underwear on. I can't help but notice how beautiful he is and how attracted I feel to him. My face blushes as I think this. He smirks at me, "Whats the matter Katniss? Shy?" he teases me and walks into the water.

I shake my head even though he can't see me and undress, following him into the water.

For a while I watch him in the water, fascinated. He is truly in his element in the water. He swims just as well as a fish if not better. I start to get worried after he has been under a while. When he doesn't resurface I start to call his name, and as soon as I start to panic, he resurfaces behind me and wraps his arms around me, putting his head next to mine, "Gottcha," He laughs in my ear, kissing my cheek.

"Not funny, you scared me to death," I say turning to face him.

He puts his hand on my chest over where my heart would be, "I can feel your heart still beating, your fine." he teases. He doesn't lift his hand just slides it up to my neck and then in my hair, I feel myself shivering. Not from the cold, from his touch.

He kisses me softly at first, then deeper opening his mouth, our tongues twirling together. His taste is intoxicating, I can't get enough of him. He pulls me closer to him so our bodies are pressed together. I become very aware that we have nothing on but underwear. I run my fingers down his back, along his arms, through his hair.

As we kiss we he moves us deeper in the water and I lock my legs around his waist. He has one hand on my bottom holding me up and caressing me at the same time. The whole time he never lets go of my lips. All I can think about is how good it feels to be touching him, and to be touched by him, and how much I love this boy. I feel something hard press into my thigh, and I know he is aroused. On instinct I push into it and I hear his breath catch, "Katniss," he moans. He pulls back slightly as if to slow himself down and I pull him back not letting him go.

He looks at me and in the moon light I can see a question in his eyes. I nod. "Are you sure?" he asks me.

"Yes," I tell him. And I am. I am one hundred percent sure this is what I want. And he is kissing me again, with hunger on his lips. Then his lips are on my neck, behind my ear, on my shoulder.

"You are making all my dreams come true."

"Oh yeah?" I half laugh.

"Oh yeah," He says, "Being here, with you, like this, in one of my favorite places..." he trails off smiling at me but its not long until he is kissing me again.

I pull myself closer to him, needing him, and he takes us to even deeper water.

A while later, I'm still trembling with pleasure as we walk back up to the beach near our clothes. He doesn't put his on though, instead lays down in the sand, and pulls me so I'm cuddled into him.

"Are you okay?" he asks kissing my head.

"Okay? I'm wonderful." I tell him. That was an amazing experience. "I'm so happy Finnick." I continue.

"i love you so much Katniss," he whispers.

"I love you too Finnick, more than you could ever know." My heart almost aches with how much I love him.

"Are you okay?" I ask him seriously, remembering his time in the Capitol.

Looking me in my eyes, "You have no idea how _okay_ I am." he says seriously then he looks troubled, "Katniss I.. You have no idea how much I wish you were my first. This was the first time I've ever.. wanted it, ever enjoyed it. And I am so happy that it's with you."

We lay in the sand together, completely relaxed for what must be hours. I feel so happy and relaxed I don't want to leave. But when we both start to shiver Finnick suggests we head back to the train, and I agree.

We walk back hand in hand. The closer we get to the train, reality seems to slip back in gradually invading our bubble of bliss on the beach. Finnick walks me to the door and I expect him to come in but he starts to leave. I put out my hand to stop him, "aren't you coming in?" I ask him.

"Do you want me to?"

"Don't I always want you to Finnick?"

He smiles and picks me up and carries me into the room.

That night I sleep peacefully in his arms, with no nightmares.

The next morning I'm wrenched back into reality because we reach district 3 and the pattern starts all over again.

The back-to-back appearances in 2 and 1 are their own special kind of awful. Cato and Clove, the tributes from District 2, might have both made it home if Peeta and I hadn't. I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? I suppose that before the Games I didn't pay attention, and afterward I didn't want to know.


	44. Chapter 44 Desperate

**Chapter Forty Four: Desperate**

By the time we reach the Capitol, we are desperate. We make endless appearances to adoring crowds. Some with just Peeta and I, others with me and Finnick. There is no danger of an uprising here among the privileged, among those whose names are never placed in the reaping balls, whose children never die for the supposed crimes committed generations ago. We don't need to convince anybody in the Capitol of our love but hold to the slim hope that we can still reach some of those we failed to convince in the districts. Whatever we do seems too little, too late.

Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, we are all making suggestions to one another. To my surprise, Haymitch is the one who suggests the public marriage proposal to Finnick. Finnick agrees to do it, but looks sad.

Peeta looks mad. "You can't just marry her off Haymitch, she has a right to decide for herself, she is only 17." he shouts at Haymitch.

"Yes she is only 17 but if she wants to live to be 18 we will need to do something drastic." he shouts back.

"Katniss, Finnick if you don't want to then we can come up with something else." Peeta tells me.

I shake my head, I want to marry Finnick, I just... I don't want it to be for all of Panem. I want it to be for us.

"No, I do want to," he tells Peeta then looks at me, I can see we feel that same way. "I just wanted to do it for us, not the capitol." He tells Peeta but he is looking at me as he says it.

"It just still doesn't seem right."

"You are just being overly protective of her, which is good because we need that too, but.." Haymitch trails off.

"Peeta, I know your protective over your sister. I know how that feels, its just like I am with my sister, Annie. But I'm protective over Katniss too. I love her and I will never let anything happen to her, I can promise you that. And I'm not going to propose just for the Capitol, I was planning on doing it anyways once we got back home" To prove his point he digs in his pocket, and pulls out a little black box, "See, I already bought a ring."

This is news to me. I try to breathe as they plan my marriage proposal.

That night, on the stage before the Training Center, Finnick and I bubble our way through a list of questions about our relationship. Caesar Flickerman, in his twinkling midnight blue suit, his hair, eyelids, and lips still dyed powder blue, flawlessly guides us through the interview.

"So, tell us how did you two happen to meet?" Caesar asks us.

"The first time we met was after the chariot ride in the opening ceremonies." I say honestly.

"Like most of the country, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I knew I had to meet her so I went with Haymitch to greet the tributes and spoke to her for the first time."

"And what did you say?" Caesar asks.

Instead I answer, "He told me, I should wear flames more often, that the flames suited me." I blush remembering the affect he had on me even then.

"That they do, that they do." Caesar says and the audience agrees. "After that, it seems so unlikely you would see each other, how did it happen?"

"Well, I'm afraid Caesar I did somethings I probably shouldn't have done. But I just couldn't help myself." The audience awws.

"Oh?" Caesar says for him to continue.

"I just couldn't stop thinking about her. I think I loved her even then and I started going out of my way just to watch her. Haymitch and I have been friends for a while so I would make up excuses to see him so I could run into her. I'm almost embarrassed to say I left notes for her in places I knew she would find them." It's not the completely the truth seeing as when I saw him we were breaking rules or he was in a secret rebel meeting but it comes of smoothly and the audience gushes saying things like, _how sweet,_ and _so cute._

"And Katniss, how did you fall for him?"

"Well I suppose I couldn't help myself. I tried to resist, knowing I could have died instead of coming back to him. But now I realize, it just gave me another reason to fight."

"How did it feel Finnick, to watch her in the arena?" Caesar asks and the audience hushes so they can here every word.

Finnick takes a moment, and I can see his emotions are real as he answers, "Caesar, I.. I can't even describe it. I.. Those were some of the worst days of my life. But I couldn't keep my eyes away from the screen. I. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't made it back to me. From the very first time her blue eyes locked onto mine I knew my life had changed forever."

"Changed your life forever, how about that?" Caesar highlights and the audience cheers.

"Speaking of forever," Finnick gets stands up and gets down on one knee, "Katniss, love, you have changed my life. You make me who I am, and who I am is a better man because of you. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I don't want to spend another minute living if you're not in my life. So please, Katniss, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

There are tears in my eyes, and I lunge myself into his arms, "Yes, yes of course I will be your wife!" I gush.

Finnick kisses me and the Capitol audience is hysterical, shots of crowds around Panem show a country besotted with happiness. Caesar makes a comment about how every women is probably secretly hating me for stealing the desire of the Capitol, but he laughs when he says it.

President Snow himself makes a surprise visit to congratulate us. He clasps Finnick's hand and gives him an approving slap on the shoulder. He embraces me, enfolding me in the smell of blood and roses, and plants a puffy kiss on my cheek. When he pulls back, his fingers digging into my arms, his face smiling into mine, I dare to raise my eyebrows. They ask what my lips can't. Did I do it? Was it enough? Was giving everything over to you, keeping up the game, promising to marry Finnick enough?

In answer, he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. In that one slight motion, I see the end of hope, the beginning of the destruction of everything I hold dear in the world. I can't guess what form my punishment will take, how wide the net will be cast, but when it is finished, there will most likely be nothing left. So you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here's what's strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. That the question of whether I can succeed in this venture has been answered, even if that answer is a resounding no. That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish.

Only not here, not quite yet. It's essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Finnick and Annie, Gale and his family. And Peeta, if I can get him to come with us, and Rye, Nate, and Thomas. I add Haymitch to the list. These are the people I must take with me when I escape into the wild. How I will convince them, where we will go in the dead of winter, what it will take to evade capture are unanswered questions. But at least now I know what I must do.

So instead of crumpling to the ground and weeping, I find myself standing up straigher and with more confidence than I have in weeks. My smile, while somewhat insane, is not forced. And when President Snow silences the audience and says, "What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?" I pull off girl almost catatonic with joy without a hitch.

Caesar Flickerman asks if the president has a date in mind.

"Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says the president. The audience gives a big laugh and the president puts his arm around me. "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you are thirty."

"You'll probably have to pass a new law," I saw with a giggle.

"If that's what it takes," says the president with conspiratorial good humor.

Oh, the fun we two have together.


	45. Chapter 45 Feast

**This is pretty much the same as the book with a few small changes.**

 **Chapter Forty Five: Feast**

The party, held in the banquet room of President Snow's mansion, has no equal. The forty foot ceiling has been transformed into the night sky, and the stars look exactly as they do at home. I suppose they look the same from the Capitol, but who would know? there's always too much light from the city to see the stars here. About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, musicians float on what look like fluffy white clouds, but I can't see what holds them aloft. Traditional dining tables have been replaces by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. There's a large tiled area in the center of the room that serves as everything from a dance floor, to a stage for the performers who come and go, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.

But the real star of the evening is the food. Tables laden with delicacies line the walls. Everything you can think of, and things you have never dreamed of, lie in wait. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

My appetite has returned with my' desire to fight back. After weeks of feeling too worried to eat, I'm famished.

"I want to taste everything in the room," I tell Finnick.

I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation. Since he doesn't know that President Snow thinks I have failed, he can only assume that I think we have succeeded. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we're on camera. "Then you'd better pace yourself," he says.

"Okay, no more than one bite of each dish," I say.

My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups, when I encounter a creamy pumpkin brew sprinkled with slivered nuts and tiny black seeds. "I could just eat this all night!" I exclaim. But I don't. I weaken again at a clear green broth that I can only describe as tasting like springtime, and again when I try a frothy pink soup dotted with raspberries.

Faces appear, names are exchanged, pictures taken, kisses brushed on cheeks. Apparently my mockingjay pin has spawned a new fashion sensation, because several people come up to show me their accessories. My bird has been replicated on belt buckles, embroidered into silk lapels, even tattooed in intimate places. Everyone wants to wear the winner's token. I can only imagine how nuts that makes President Snow. But what can he do? The Games were such a hit here, where the berries were only a symbol of a desperate girl trying to save her brother.

Finnick and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food.

Every table presents new temptations, and even on my restricted one-taste-per-dish regimen, I begin filling up quickly. I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Finnick eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things, and the idea of throwing away food, as I see so many people doing so casually, is abhorrent to me. After about ten tables I'm stuffed, and we've only sampled a small number of the dishes available.

Just then my prep team descends on us and Peeta follows. They're nearly incoherent between the alcohol they've consumed and their ecstasy at being at such a grand affair.

"Why aren't you eating?" asks Octavia.

"I have been, but I can't hold another bite," I say. They all laugh as if that's the silliest thing they've ever heard.

"No one lets that stop them!" says Flavius. They lead us over to a table that holds tiny stemmed wineglasses filled with clear liquid. "Drink this!"

Peeta picks one up to take a sip and they lose it.

"Not here!" shrieks Octavia.

"You have to do it in there," says Venia, pointing to doors that lead to the toilets. "Or you'll get it all over the floor!"

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. "You mean this will make me puke?"

My prep team laughs hysterically. "Of course, so you can keep eating. I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?"

I'm speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. Peeta sets his back on the table with such precision you'd think it might detonate. "Come on, Katniss, let's dance." he says taking my away from Finnick.

Music filters down from the clouds as he leads me away from the team, the table, and out onto the floor. We know only a few dances at home, the kind that go with fiddle and flute music and require a good deal of space. But Effie has shown us some that are popular in the Capitol. The music's slow and dreamlike, so Peeta pulls me into his arms with a comfortable distance so its not awkward and we move in a circle with practically no steps at all. You could do this dance on a pie plate. We're quiet for a while. Then Peeta speaks in a strained voice.

"You go along, thinking you can deal with it, thinking maybe they're not so bad, and then you—" He cuts himself off.

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents can't give. More food. Now that we're rich, she'll send some home with them. But often in the old days, there was nothing to give and the child was past saving, anyway. And here in the Capitol they're vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. It's what everyone does at a party. Expected. Part of the fun.

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough. Being part of Gale's family, the kid has to eat better than ninety percent of the rest of District 12. But he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they'd opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldn't feel right unless the others had some, too. If it's like that at Gale's, what's it like in the other houses?

"Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment," I say. "Really, this is nothing by comparison."

"I know. I know that. It's just sometimes I can't stand it anymore. To the point where ... I'm not sure what I'll do." He pauses, then whispers, "Maybe we were wrong, Katniss."

"About what?" I ask.

"About trying to subdue things in the districts," he says.

Even though part of me feels the same way I panic. My head turns swiftly from side to side, but no one seems to have heard. The camera crew got sidetracked at a table of shellfish, and the couples dancing around us are either too drunk or too self-involved to notice.

"Sorry," he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts.

"Save it for home," I tell him.

Just then Portia appears with a large man who looks vaguely familiar. She introduces him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker. Plutarch asks Peeta if he can steal me for a dance. Peeta's recovered his camera face and good-naturedly passes me over, warning the man not to get too attached.

I don't want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don't want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I'm not used to being touched, except by Finnick or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. But he seems to sense this and holds me almost at arm's length as we turn on the floor.

We chitchat about the party, about the entertainment, about the food, and then he makes a joke about avoiding punch since training. I don't get it, and then I realize he's the man who tripped backward into the punch bowl when I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers during the training session. Well, not really. I was shooting an apple out of their roast pig's mouth. But I made them jump.

"Oh, you're one who—" I laugh, remembering him splashing back into the punch bowl.

"Yes. And you'll be pleased to know I've never recovered," says Plutarch.

I want to point out that twenty-two dead tributes will never recover from the Games he helped create, either. But I only say, "Good. So, you're the Head Gamemaker this year? That must be a big honor."

"Between you and me, there weren't many takers for the job," he says. "So much responsibility as to how the Games turn out."

Yeah, the last guy's dead, I think. He must know about Seneca Crane, but he doesn't look the least bit concerned. "Are you planning the Quarter Quell Games already?" I say.

"Oh, yes. Well, they've been in the works for years, of course. Arenas aren't built in a day. But the, shall we say, flavor of the Games is being determined now. Believe it or not, I've got a strategy meeting tonight," he says.

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. "I'll have to be going soon." He turns the watch so I can see the face. "It starts at midnight."

"That seems late for—" I say, but then something distracts me. Plutarch has run his thumb across the crystal face of the watch and for just a moment an image appears, glowing as if lit by candlelight. It's another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed.

"That's very pretty," I say.

"Oh, it's more than pretty. It's one of a kind," he says. "If anyone asks about me, say I've gone home to bed. The meetings are supposed to be kept secret. But I thought it'd be safe to tell you."

"Yes. Your secret's safe with me," I say. Then Finnick is by my side.

"Mind if I take my girl back Plutarch?" he says

"Not at all, I was just leaving." He hands me to Finnick and extends his hand.

As we shake hands, he gives a small bow, a common gesture here in the Capitol. "Well, I'll see you next summer at the Games, Katniss. Best wishes on your engagement, and good luck to both of you."

 _We'll need it,_ I think.

I tell Finnick about Plutarch showing off his pretty, one-of-a-kind watch to me. There was something strange about it. Almost clandestine. But why? Maybe he thinks someone else will steal his idea of putting a disappearing mockingjay on a watch face. Yes, he probably paid a fortune for it and now he can't show it to anyone because he's afraid someone will make a cheap, knockoff version. Only in the Capitol.

Finnick, rolls his eyes, but I can tell he knows more than he is letting on. I remind myself to ask him about it later when we are alone.

Finnick suggests we go find Peeta.

We find him admiring a table of elaborately decorated cakes. Bakers have come in from the kitchen especially to talk frosting with him, and you can see them tripping over one another to answer his questions. At his request, they assemble an assortment of little cakes for him to take back to District 12, where he can examine their work in quiet.

"Effie said we have to be on the train at one. I wonder what time it is," he says, glancing around.

"Almost midnight," Finnick replies..

"Time to say thank you and farewell!" trills Effie at my elbow. It's one of those moments when I just love her compulsive punctuality. We collect Cinna and Portia, and she escorts us around to say good-bye to important people, then herds us to the door.

"Shouldn't we thank President Snow?" asks Peeta. "It's his house."

The thought of seeing President Snow again makes my stomach turn. I hope I never have to see him again.

"Oh, he's not a big one for parties. Too busy," says Effie. "I've already arranged for the necessary notes and gifts to be sent to him tomorrow. There you are!" Effie gives a little wave to two Capitol attendants who have an inebriated Haymitch propped up between them.

We travel through the streets of the Capitol in a car with darkened windows. Behind us, another car brings the prep teams. The throngs of people celebrating are so thick it's slow going. But Effie has this all down to a science, and at exactly one o'clock we are back on the train and it's pulling out of the station.

Haymitch is deposited in his room. Cinna orders tea and we all take seats around the table while Effie rattles her schedule papers and reminds us we're still on tour. "There's the Harvest Festival in District Twelve to think about. So I suggest we drink our tea and head straight to bed." No one argues.


	46. Chapter 46 Rebellion?

**Chapter Forty Six: Rebellion?**

We make it back to my room in the train and start getting ready for bed. Finnick doesn't even try to go to his room anymore, we always sleep together. Now that we are alone I remember to ask about Finnick seeming to know more about Plutarch.

"Finnick?"

He looks up at me in answer, "You seemed to know more about Plutarch than you let on, what is it?"

He purses his lips and I can tell he is trying to decide something in his head. He still looks unsure when he answers, "Haymitch made me promise not to tell you."

"What?" I say completely surprised. Why would Haymitch not want to tell me? For the same reason we kept secrets from Peeta, is my guess.

"I think he would agree that its time to tell you. He didn't want to tell you because if something goes wrong we wanted you to be able to say you knew nothing about it."

I nod for him to continue.

"Well a few years back a group of us started meeting. You ran into one of our meetings before your games remember?"

"Yes" I remember.

"Well all of us in the meeting, hate the Capitol. We all want to overthrow it but have never had an opportunity."

"Until now." I say

"Well, it looks better now, but it's still not right. We would still lose. We need more support."

I remember several things he said to me that made me question that now make sense. Like how he said our children wouldn't be reaped because their wouldn't be a Hunger Games by the time they were old enough.

"What does this have to do with Plutarch?"

He takes a deep breath, "He is a rebel, he's against the Capitol."

My head starts spinning, and I feel Finnick catch me. I must have fallen. This whole time we've been trying to prevent and uprising when they've been trying to start it. I think back to Peeta's words when we danced, he was right. My first thoughts were oh no we can't do this, we need to protect our families. But now after a minute I'm thinking, we have to do this. I think of all my rebellious actions and thoughts, I've been gearing up for a rebellion without even knowing it.

"Katniss, I thought you would be okay with it..." he continues but I interrupt him.

"Finnick stop. We have to do this. We have to take down the Capitol."

He looks surprised but says, "I know."

"Finnick we could have been raising spirit in the districts instead of trying to squash the uprisings."

He shakes his head, "If we did that we would be dead right now."

I nod knowing he is right. "So, what s the plan?"

He looks at me confused. "There isn't a plan Kat."

"Well why not? What have all your meetings been about?"

"We are waiting for the perfect moment."

I sigh, I'm ready for action.

He laughs at me. "I know how you feel but we have to do this perfectly. If we don't thousands of people will lose their lives for nothing."

I nod in understanding.

"You can't tell anyone about this Katniss. Even Peeta. Because if we get captured its going to be worse for the ones who knew." I can tell he is regretting telling me. But I didn't give him much of a choice and I'm glad I know.

"Finnick, I'm glad I know what is going on." I reassure him, "I agree we shouldn't tell Peeta, but he will be mad when he finds out we kept something else from him."

I find myself wanting to know more, "Finnick when do the rebels have meetings?"

He sighs, but it's too late not to tell me now, "We meet every hunger games when all the victors are in the Capitol. And we find ways to communicate when something comes up and we have to. Beetee usually makes it safe for us to talk over the phone."

"I want to go to the meeting." I tell him with determination.

"If the situation was different Katniss, you probably would be invited at the games this summer. But since you are being closely watched, it is probably not the best idea."

I sigh, I know he is right. It wouldn't help the rebels if they were found out because I'm being watched too closely. "I want to fight." I whisper to him.

He takes me in his arms, my head rests under his chin, "I know, I do too. But, I don't want you too."

I look at him confused, my eyes asking _what do you mean?_ He must get it because he answers, "I want to keep you safe. I don't want you to fight because I'm too afraid something will happen to you." I can see the pain in his eyes.

I understand, because I want to keep him safe too. "You might not always be able to protect me, honey." I say laying my hand on his cheek, "We're in this together, no matter what. I'm not going to let you leave me behind to go fight a war. I would go crazy."

Determination burns in his eyes, "Well there's no war to go fight right now, so no sense talking about it now."

I agree, knowing that I am just as determined as he is.

We get into bed knowing tomorrow will be another busy day. For now, I have to play by the Capitol's rules.

"Still want to marry me?" he asks me quietly.

"Of course I do, I love you." I turn to him and kiss him.

"I don't want to get married in the Capitol." he tells me.

I nod my head, "Neither do I, but I don't think we can avoid it."

Finnick turns so we are both laying on our sides looking at each other. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, "What if we do both?"

"Both? Both what?"

"What if we get married not in the Capitol, then have the Capitol wedding as well. We can get married how we want to, and then we can go through with the Capitol wedding."

I smile, "That sounds perfect."

In the morning we are almost in District 12.

The agenda for District 12 includes a dinner at Mayor Undersee's house tonight and a victory rally in the square during the Harvest Festival tomorrow. We always celebrate the Harvest Festival on the final day of the Victory Tour, but usually it means a meal at home or with a few friends if you can afford it. This year it will be a public affair, and since the Capitol will be throwing it, everyone in the whole district will have full bellies.

Most of our prepping will take place at the mayor's house, since we're back to being covered in furs for outdoor appearances. We're only at the train station briefly, to smile and wave as we pile into our car. We don't even get to see our families until the dinner tonight.

I'm glad it will be at the mayor's house instead of at the Justice Building, where the memorial for my father was held, where they took me after the reaping for those wrenching goodbyes to my family. The Justice Building is too full of bad memories. I like Mayor Undersee's house, especially now that his daughter, Madge, and I are friends. We always were, in a way. It became official when she came to say good-bye to me before I left for the Games. When she gave me the mockingjay pin for luck. After I got home, we started spending time together. It turns out Madge has plenty of empty hours to fill, too. It was a little awkward at first because we didn't know what to do. Other girls our age, I've heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren't gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I've taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She's trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. Sometimes we eat at each other's houses. Madge likes mine better. Her parents seem nice but I don't think she sees a whole lot of them. Her father has District 12 to run and her mother gets fierce headaches that force her to stay in bed for days.

"Maybe you should take her to the Capitol," I said during one of them. We weren't playing the piano that day, because even two floors away the sound caused her mother pain. "They can fix her up, I bet."

"Yes. But you don't go to the Capitol unless they invite you," said Madge unhappily. Even the mayor's privileges are limited.

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so i slip off to find her.

Madge's bedroom is on the second floor along with several guest rooms and her father's study. I stick my head in the study to say hello to the mayor but its empty. The television is droning on, and i stop to watch shorts of Peeta and me at the Capitol party last night. We were dancing. Then a shot of me and Finnick eating.

I'm leaving the room when a beeping noise catches my attention. I turn back to see the screen of the television go black. Then the words, "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" start flashing. Instinctively I know this is not for my eyes but something intended only for the mayor. I should go. Quickly. Instead I find myself stepping closer to the television.

An announcer I've never seen before appears. It's a woman with graying hair and a hoarse, authoritative voice. She warns that conditions are worsening and a Level 3 alert has been called. Additional forces are being sent into District 8, and all textile production has stopped. They cut away from the woman to the main square in District 8. I recognize it because I was there only last week. There are still banners with my face waving from the rooftops. Below them, there's a mob scene. The square's packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Buildings burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random.

I've never seen anything like it, but I can only be witnessing one thing. This is what President Snow calls an uprising.


	47. Chapter 47 Good News! and Bad news

**Chapter Forty Seven: Good news! and Bad news...**

After the festival the cameras left. I couldn't be more relieved. I can finally take a deep breath without being worried how it looks on camera. Finnick stays with Haymitch instead of going back to District 4. He was happy to stay to be close to me, but the real reason he is staying is because we have to plan our wedding.

The next morning I meet my mom and Prim at the breakfast table. Finnick goes next door to get Haymitch and I call Peeta to come over. Finnick and I have decided to get married soon and we want to share the news with our family.

"We have some news," I tell the all of them, smiling at Finnick.

Instantly they all freeze and I can tell they are terrified, thinking it is bad news. "Finnick and I decided to get married."

The look at each other confused, "We know that, sweetheart." Haymitch says carefully.

Realizing I need more explaining I continue, "We have decided we don't want to get married in the Capitol, but since we won't be able to avoid it we want to get married on our own first. We want to do it our way first, so that it's the first one that will actually matter.

There is a moment of silence as they take it in which is quickly filled with squeals of delight and they are all hugging us.

We make plans to have the wedding in a two weeks, and we decide to only tell a few people. Actually we decide to tell only two people that aren't in the room already, and they are Thomas, my dad, and Annie, Finnick's sister. We decide on two weeks that way Finnick can go home and come back with Annie.

I walk into town, with Finnick and Peeta headed towards the bakery. Peeta is going to make our cake and he wants to pick up some supplies. And I want to talk to Thomas.

When we arrive the bakery has no customers. We walk in and Peeta goes right to the back. I greet Rye at the counter, "Hey Rye, is Dad here?" I ask him.

"Yeah he's in the back, I'll go get him." He disappears and in a few moments returns with Thomas.

Finnick, Thomas, and I sit at one of the tables and I tell him about the wedding and how we want to keep it a secret.

"What's the big secret about?" he asks us.

"Well as you know the Capitol plans on throwing us a big wedding, but that's not what we want. So we want to have our own wedding, our way first."

"I promise I won't say a word, and I'm glad you told me." he says, and extends his hand to Finnick, "Welcome to the family." I''m not sure but I think I see a tear in his eye.

"Thank you, sir. I promise I'll take care of her." He tells him.

Now I'm nervous as I ask him, "Will you walk me down the isle?"

A tear falls down his cheek, and he stands up wrapping me in a hug, "I would be honored."

A little while later we are walking back to Victor's Village. Peeta went back a while ago and its just me and Finnick walking hand and hand. We picked up a marriage license and wedding bands.

Finnick and I are talking quietly about the wedding.

"Annie is going to be excited about the wedding, and she is going to be even more excited about meeting you." Finnick tells me.

I have never met Annie but I've talked to her on the phone a few times. I'm excited to meet her too. Finnick has told me a lot about her, and I can tell how much she means to him. I think her and Prim will get along really well even though she is 2 years younger. Annie is 11 now, and Prim 13.

Finnick surprises me when he asks, "Why don't you come with me?"

"Go with you?"

"Yeah, to District 4. We can make it a fun trip, have a chance to relax a little before we have to go back to the Capitol. We could spend a week there, then come back here and have a week before the wedding."

A trip with Finnick to the beach sounds amazing, but what about my mom and Prim and Peeta...

Finnick must be reading the concerns from my face because he stops putting his hands on either side of my face, "They will be okay, love. What's going to happen to them?"

I shrug, anything could happen to them. Things I couldn't possibly think of.

"Nothing is going to happen to them. You have nothing to worry about. Kat, you need a break from worrying. Come to the beach with me. We can walk in the sand, go swimming in the middle of the night..." he winks at me.

I blush at the memory, but agree to go with him.

We walk back to my house hand in hand to go pack. When we walk in Mom and Prim are both watching the television in the living room, which is odd. Even though we have a new television that works we hardly ever turn it on unless it's required. When it's required viewing it comes on by itself. It hits me, this must be required viewing.

"What's going on?" I ask them concerned.

Prim points to the screen, "They, their making everyone have it on."

I look at the screen and wish I hadn't. It's showing District 7's town square where a peacekeeper is whipping a man who has his hands tied over his head on a whipping post. There is no sound, but you don't need sound to hear the whip crack. There is a pool of blood around the man, and I'm not sure if he is still alive. Then the screen flashes and it shows a woman in a stockade, it appears she has been there for a long time. Beyond her stands an empty stock. A peacekeeper appears with a boy that is probably around Prim's age. The peacekeeper tries to put him in the stockade but the boy resists and the peacekeeper knocks his legs out from under him and slams his body into the stock, then slamming the top part over him and locking it. Before leaving he kicks the boy in the stomach. Then it flashes to another place with someone being held down and tied to a whipping post. I'm horrified as I watch but I find it hard to look away.

"What are they doing?" I almost sob.

Finnick takes me in his arms, "Shh Kat, everything is going to be okay."

Finnick makes us all go into the kitchen away from the television. At the table he tells them about our trip to District 4, and they both encourage me to go. I think they both realize that leaving will keep me out of trouble. Our leaving set's mom and Prim into motion. They are cooking a special dinner tonight for us and I think it's a good excuse to distract them from what is being shown in the living room.

Finnick says he needs to go pack his stuff from Haymitch's house and pulls me along with him. We get their to find Haymitch drunk and passed out. Like I did before the victory tour I fill a pitcher with water and pour it over his head.

"Ahhh" he comes up swinging. When he sees it's only us, "What the hell was that for?"

"Have you seen it?" I ask him.

"Seen what?" he sputters thinking it's not worth his time.

Finnick points at the television screen, where they are showing another person being whipped. Haymitch stares at it the same way I did, horrified but unable to look away.

"What are they doing?" I ask again.

This time Finnick answers, and I understand why he didn't in front of my mother and sister, "They are making a point. They are saying that if you break the rules you will be punished. It's a reminder."

Haymitch nods, "We haven't had whippings in this district for a while, I doubt old Cray will start now."

"We need to leave, tonight." Finnick says obviously anxious to get to Annie.

I nod, agreeing.

"Where are you going?" Haymitch asks.

Finnick fills him in on our trip.

"Stay out of trouble." he slurs before falling back asleep.


	48. Chapter 48 Trip?

**Chapter Forty Eight: Trip?**

Instead of waiting until the morning, we leave for District 4 right after dinner. On the train, I find myself trying to calm Finnick down. Reversed of how we were only a few hours ago.

"Finnick, Annie is going to be fine." I tell him.

He looks at me and I can see the trouble in his eyes. "Does Annie go around causing trouble and breaking laws?" I ask him, already knowing the answer. Annie doesn't leave the house often. She goes out to the beach behind their house, and occasionally to town with Finnick. Finnick doesn't offer and answer just hangs his head in his hands.

"I shouldn't have left her. I should have brought her with me." he says.

"Well you will see her soon and she will stay with us for as long as..." I can't think of anything, "...forever."

"Katniss, maybe bringing you with me was a bad idea now. District 4 isn't like 12. There will be people being whipped in the square. There will be trouble." He tells me.

"All the more reason for me to go with you." my answer doesn't reassure him.

I kneel down on the floor in front of him and take his face in my hands, "We are in this together Finnick. Until the end."

He presses our foreheads together, and I can see every ounce of pain reflected in his eyes. I want to take all that pain away from him but I know it's not possible.

By the next afternoon, we are pulling into the train station. Unlike the last time I was here there are no people around. The square has an eerie feeling about it but to my relief, there is nobody being whipped in the square. When we get a little closer though I see a pool of blood from a recent whipping and their is an odor, that can only be rotting flesh. My breakfast threatens to resurface but I swallow it back down.

We immediately start toward Finnick's house. For some reason, I find myself wishing I had a weapon. On the way there we see the work docks where seafood is brought in out in the distance. A thick black smoke is coming up from them, and I hear gun fire.

Both of us take off running towards Finnick's house.

We burst through the door nearly taking it off the hinges. "Annie?!" Finnick yells.

I hear footsteps upstairs, "Finnick?" says a soft voice from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, oh Annie thank God you are alright." he says relieved.

Annie runs down the stairs straight into his arms. He hugs her tight, lifting her off the floor.

"Of course I'm alright, but..."

"I know." he says putting her down, "We saw on the way in."

Annie sees me for the first time, "Katniss!" she squeals and I get a hug just as big as the one she gave her brother.

Automatically, without my even realizing it happening, I love this little girl just as much as I love Prim. Maybe it's because she reminds me of Prim, like Rue did. Maybe it's because she looks like Finnick. Or maybe it's because Finnick loves her, and I can't help but love anything or anyone that he loves.

Looking at Finnick I see him smile for the first time since we go on the train. But it doesn't last long enough. There is serious trouble here and I see him conflicted.

"Where is Mags?" Finnick asks Annie.

"She is taking a nap." Annie tells him.

Finnick told me about Mags. She was his mentor when he won the games. She is an old, elderly lady and she has helped him look after Annie since his mom died.

"Pack a bag, quickly. Let Mags know you are leaving with me and Katniss."

"Where are we going?" she asks him.

"To District 12." Is all he tells her in explanation. "Pack light, but bring things you are going to want to have with you, you might be there for a while."

Annie doesn't question him, though I can tell she is dying for answers. She runs up the stairs to get started.

Finnick turns to me, "I'm sorry, love," he says in a soft tone, "We aren't going to be able to stay here for long, it's not going to be safe."

"It's okay Finnick, honestly I'm not worried about having a vacation at all."

Finnick starts up the stairs and heads into a different room than the one Annie disappeared into. I realize quickly that it is his bedroom. In the bedroom, he picks up the mattress and some kind of bar holds it up in place without Finnick having to secure it. Underneath the bed is a carpet he quickly pulls to the side revealing a small finger sized hole in the floor. Finnick puts his finger on top of it and I think it is reading his finger print. To my amazement the floor slides open and reveals a small armory.

There are several tridents, knives, swords, guns, and bullets. To say I'm surprised is an understatement.

I watch as he picks up a small pistol, loads it and hides it in his belt. He fills his pocket with extra ammunition. Then he secures a set of knives on the inside of his coat. He picks up another pistol and turns to me. "Ever used one of these before?"

I shake my head no, the only weapons I've ever used were a bow and arrow and knives when needed in the woods for hunting and of course in the hunger games.

He loads it and hands it to me explaining the basics. "You're a good shot, aiming isn't much different with any weapon."

I hide it in my belt just like he did. He hands me extra ammunition as well and a set of knives. We are loaded down with weapons and for some reason this makes me feel safer rather than scared.

"Are we going to the docks?" I ask him.

"No. We are going to the train, and nothing is going to stop us from getting on it."

I nod my head, ready to fight if need be.

Taking another knife, Finnick closes the doors and puts the bed back in place. He turns to me looking a little sheepish, "Gotta be ready for anything." is his explanation and half smile makes me want to roll my eyes at him, but I resist. He is right after all.


	49. Chapter 49 Peacekeepers

**In the book there is only speculation about what is going on in the other districts and I wanted to show that there is indeed much more going on. I'm not sure if I like it but I'm going to keep it anyways I hope you like it.**

 **Chapter Forty Nine: Peacekeepers**

Finnick grabs my hand and pulls me close to him. Looking me in the eyes, "Promise me, that no matter what happens, you will go straight to the train and leave on it."

"No. No I can't promise you that." I'm shaking my head, "What do you think is going on?"

He sighs, "There is an uprising. If the docks are burning the people from District 4 are revolting, but it's not enough. They will cause a lot of damage, but they won't win. Peacekeepers are going to lay down the law hard when it's over. We aren't going to be here when it ends. But right now we have no idea what we will encounter and we have to be ready for anything. If for any reason I get held up or left behind, keep going and head straight for district 12, take Annie with you."

"Finnick, I'm not going anywhere without you! Do you understand me? So you better make damn sure you are on that train right beside us."

"Please Katniss.." he's begging me now, "I need to know that you are safe."

"And if your in danger, you expect me to leave you behind? That's not going to happen."

He stares into my eyes for a few minutes searching for something but I don't waver. Eventually he sighs, and gives in.

"Let's go." he says.

Annie is waiting for us in the kitchen, with her bag over her shoulder.

"Ready?" Finnick asks her.

"Yeah." she says, "What about Mags?"

"Mags will be just fine, don't worry about her." Finnick smiles ruffling her hair. He takes his bag off her shoulder, and hands he the sheathed knife. "Now you shouldn't have to use this, but just in case don't hesitate. Nothing is going to happen, but if something does, I want you to go straight to the train. If we aren't there in ten minutes bar the door and head to District 12. When you get to District 12..." Finnick looks at me not sure what to tell her.

"When you get to District 12 you will see the town from the train station. Find the bakery, you can't miss it. Ask for Thomas, that's my father. Tell him who you are and tell him I asked him to take you to my house. My mother and my sister will be there, you will be safe with them."

"Then as soon as you can, find Haymitch and tell him everything that happened."

Annie takes this in her eyes getting wider and wider.

We head out of the house towards the train station. Trying not to act suspicious we act like we are just a happy couple spending time with Annie. We manage to get all the way to the square without seeing anyone.

A large group of about 40 peacekeepers run by us heading toward the docks. When they see us two of them stop. I can see Finnick recognizes them and I can tell that it's not a good thing.

"Haven't seen you around lately Mr. Odair, interesting that you are back today."

"Well as you know, I just got back from the Capitol with my fiance." Finnick replies.

"Yes, Ms. Everdeen. Interesting to find you here in District 4." the other one says.

"Yes, well I just couldn't wait to meet my future sister-in-law. And I wanted to see District 4 again as it may be my home very soon." I lie smoothly.

"It may?"

"We haven't decided yet." I reply. "If we want to live here or in District 12."

They both laugh, "Why would you want to live in District 12?"

I'm tired of pleasantries and I want to punch this guy in the face. I think Finnick notices because he takes over, "Well Katniss has more family there, and we are on our way to see the District now. We'll see you two later." Finnick tries. All three of us take a step forward but they halt us.

"You're not going anywhere. Nobody is allowed to leave."

"We are leaving. Our train is waiting. We can't be late they are waiting on us to start our wedding plans."

We don't wait for them to respond. We just start walking. The train is right in front of us. I feel the weight of the pistol in my belt and I'm ready to reach for it if I need to. One of the peacekeepers grabs my arm and pushes me to the ground, putting his foot on my back.

"Let her go." Finnick says in a stern voice.

The guy rolls his eyes, "I think you are forgetting who is in charge here, Mr. Odair."

I wiggle trying to get up, but he is too heavy. When he puts his gun to my head I stop wiggling.

Annie whimpers, without looking at her, Finnick says, "Annie, now."

The peacekeepers look confused, and it distracts them.

I can see Annie looking at me, "Go" I mouth, "10 minutes." I say aloud.

Annie takes off running to the train and without giving them time to react I pull a knife from my jacket pocket and stab the guy in the leg. He jumps up releasing me and I'm on my feet. I look to see Finnick has his gun to the head of the other guy having gotten the jump on him. The guy with the stab wound recovers and lunges for me. having no time to reach for my pistol I throw the knife at him and it hits him in the stomach. I have no doubt that he will die from the wound. Finnick smacks the other peacekeeper with his gun and he falls to the ground.

We take off toward the train at full speed, Finnick pushes me in the door. Before he can step in someone pulls him back. I see another peacekeeper pulling him and two more coming up from behind. Without even thinking I grab my pistol and shoot all three in the head. Finnick runs into the train. I see more of them coming out of the building, responding to the gun fire sounding so close.

"Go to the control room, tell them to hurry it up and go." Finnick yells and I take off.

That is when I see the train is surrounded. At the same time they all take aim on the train and I know we are doomed. They are all about to fire. I squeeze my eyes shut, then nothing happens. I open my eyes, and the train is moving.

"What happened?" I ask Finnick.

"They got the order to let us leave." he says confused.

Recovering from the shock I make my way to him and the takes me in his arms, both of us falling to the floor. His lips slam into mine but only for a moment. He looks me over, "Your okay?" he asks.

I nod, "Yes, are you?"

"Yes," he says and his lips find mine again, "Thank god. Annie?!" he hollers.

She comes out of the door of the first room, tears are streaming down her eyes, but when she sees us on the floor she laughs. She runs right into us on the floor and hugs us both.

 **What kind of trouble are they going to be in now?**


	50. Chapter 50 Normalcy

**Chapter Fifty: Normalcy**

Annie falls asleep on the train and it give Finnick and I a chance to talk freely.

"Why do you think they were give then order to let us leave?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, "I don't know. Maybe because they would be in bigger trouble if they killed us. Not that I think the President would mind us being dead, but I think he would have a hard time explaining it. He couldn't make an example of us, because if they districts knew we died fighting it would only add fuel to the fire."

"I killed four peacekeepers. They can't let that go unpunished."

Neither one of us know what to say, so instead we just hold each other the rest of the way to District 12.

It's the middle of the night when we arrive in District 12, and I think that is probably for the best. We aren't expected back for another 6 days so it would raise a lot of questions. Questions I have no idea how to answer. Annie doesn't wake up when we arrive so Finnick picks her up and carries her all the way to my house. When we get inside the house is quiet. We head up the stairs and lay Annie down in one of the spare rooms.

We were very quiet, so I'm surprised when Prim's door opens, "Katniss?" she asks worriedly when she sees me.

"Everything is alright, little duck." I tell her, "Go back to sleep, we'll explain tomorrow."

Still unsure she makes her way back to her bed anyways and I close the door.

Finnick and I go back down stairs. Finnick heads towards the front door. "Where are you going?" I ask him.

"To talk to Haymitch," he says, "Come on."

We don't need to worry about waking Haymitch up, he doesn't sleep when it is dark out. When we get to his house we don't even bother knocking, just walk right it. Haymitch stands up when he hears us, seeing it's us he sits back down. "What the hell happened now?" he asks.

Finnick starts emptying his pockets of all the weapons onto a table and I follow suit.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to like this," Haymitch says.

"No probably not." Finnick says and settles into the nearest chair before telling Haymitch the whole story starting from the beginning. Not wanting to be even as far away from him as the couch I settle myself into Finnick's lap.

Haymitch listens to the whole story without interrupting. When Finnick finishes Haymitch sighs, "I need a drink." he gets up goes to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of clear liquid.

"You know, I don't think it's as bad as you think it is." He says finally.

"I killed four peacekeepers, they can't let that go unpunished," I tell him.

He nods his head, "Your right, but peacekeepers are replaceable, you aren't. They can't kill you because then they would have to disclose why and then the rebellion would really be on fire. They can't capture you because you have a very public wedding to plan. They'll come up with something eventually, and it will be awful but they are going to have to be very careful on how they do."

Some how this makes me relax even though I should be more frightened than ever.

"They'll probably just add the dead peacekeepers as repercussions of the uprising." Haymitch starts laughing, "Trouble follows you everywhere you go."

He's right, it does but I don't think it's very funny.

I yawn and Finnick suggests we both go to bed but I don't want to leave him so we both go up to his room at Haymitch's house. When we lay down, my adrenaline fades out and I realize that we both almost died today. I think Finnick must realize it to because he pulls me closer to him. Neither one of us say a word but we can both feel all of the tension, the love, and the relief that we are both still alive and safe for now.

Eventually we must fall asleep because the next thing I know is I'm alone in bed and sun is streaming through the window. It must be at least 10 o'clock already. I stand up really fast, panicked that Finnick isn't with me. I run down the stairs and find he isn't even in the house. I pass Haymitch passed out in the same chair he was sitting in last night. I run out the door to my house and burst in the door.

Four sets of eyes turn to me in surprise. I see one of them is Finnick's and I start to calm down. Mom, Prim and Annie go back to what they were doing but Finnick envelopes me in his arms and whispers in my ear, "I'm right here, love." and that is enough to calm me down.

I look to see what everyone else is doing and find they are making paper flower decorations for our wedding. Prim and Annie are talking and laughing like two young girls should be. I relax and smile at Finnick as we watch the scene in front of us.

The next few days go by fairly normal, if any day is really normal now. Annie has chosen the bedroom next to Prim's and I often catch them in the same room giggling late at night. I don't stop them though. Annie seems to enjoy being here with more people in the house. She has the same charm that Finnick has that makes her easy like and easy to love. Even my mother has opened her arms to Annie. It feels like she was meant to be here with us, and perhaps she was. Even Haymitch has a soft spot for her.

One evening when we have a moment alone I tell Peeta about what happened. I can tell he's not happy but he takes it in stride. I can tell it helps that I'm alive and well when I tell him.

Finnick has been staying at my house as well. I'm not sure how it happened but we both just couldn't leave each other at the end of the day. Nobody voiced any concerns so after the first night we just kept it up. We are going to be married soon after all.

Tomorrow is Sunday. The day I usually meet Gale in the woods. I tell Finnick I have to talk to Gale to give him a heads up about what is going on, and the danger he might be in. Finnick wants to go with me but I know that would be a bad idea. Gale is already going to be hard to talk to but if Finnick's there he probably won't even show up. Finnick agrees to let me go on my own, but I can tell he doesn't like it.


	51. Chapter 51 Gale

**Now this is still the conversation between Katniss and Gale with her filling him in. But things are different between the two of them. Katniss's attitude towards the uprisings are a little different since she knows about the Rebels. And the ending is very different. I hope you like it.**

 **Chapter Fifty One: Gale**

I wake up early the next morning and head out to the woods.

I go to our normal spot in the woods but I don't feel safe there. Especially after everything President Snow knew, so I purposefully make prints in the snow for Gale to follow. I know he will. I decide to go to the lake my father used to take me to when I was a kid.

It's a hike to the lake, no question. If he decides to follow me at all, Gale's going to be put out by this excessive use of energy that could be better spent in hunting. He was conspicuously absent from the dinner at the mayor's house, although the rest of his family came. Hazelle said he was home sick, which was an obvious lie. I couldn't find him at the Harvest Festival, either. Vick told me he was out hunting. That was probably true.

After a couple of hours, I reach an old house near the edge of the lake. Maybe "house" is too big a word for it. It's only one room, about twelve feet square. My father thought that a long time ago there were a lot of buildings — you can still see some of the foundations —and people came to them to play and fish in the lake. This house outlasted the others because it's made of concrete. Floor, roof, ceiling. Only one of four glass windows remains, wavy and yellowed by time. There's no plumbing and no electricity, but the fireplace still works and there's a woodpile in the corner that my father and I collected years ago. I start a small fire, counting on the mist to obscure any telltale smoke. While the fire catches, I sweep out the snow that has accumulated under the empty windows, using a twig broom my father made me when I was about eight and I played house here. Then I sit on the tiny concrete hearth, thawing out by the fire and waiting for Gale.

It's a surprisingly short time before he appears. A bow slung over his shoulder, a dead wild turkey he must have encountered along the way hanging from his belt. He stands in the doorway as if considering whether or not to enter. He holds the unopened leather bag of food, the flask, Cinna's gloves I tried to give him. Gifts he will not accept because of his anger at me. I know exactly how he feels. Didn't I do the same thing to my mother?

I look in his familiar grey eyes. His temper can't quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Finnick. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. I could take hours trying to explain, and even then have him refuse me. Instead I go straight to the heart of my defense.

"President Snow personally threatened to have you killed," I say.

Gale raises his eyebrows slightly, but there's no real show of fear or astonishment. "Anyone else?"

"Well, he didn't actually give me a copy of the list. But it's a good guess it includes both our families," I say.

It's enough to bring him to the fire. He crouches before the hearth and warms himself. "Unless what?"

"Unless nothing, now," I say. Obviously this requires more of an explanation, but I have no idea where to start I decide to just jump in. I don't need to worry about Gale saying anything, even if he isn't happy with me I know I can trust him. "President Snow paid me a visit right before the Victory Tour."

This catches his attention as I knew it would. He sits down in front of me and opens the black bag.

He tosses the gloves on my lap. "Here. I don't want your fiance's old gloves."

"These aren't his gloves. They were Cinna's," I say.

"Give them back, then," he says. He pulls on the gloves, flexes his fingers, and nods in approval. "At least I'll die in comfort."

"That's optimistic. Of course, you don't know what's happened," I say.

"Let's have it," he says.

I decide to begin with the night Peeta and I were crowned victors of the Hunger Games, and Haymitch warned me of the Capitol's fury. I tell him about the uneasiness that dogged me even once I was back home, President Snow's visit to my house, how he wants to use me and Finnick to distract the people, the murders in District 11, the tension in the crowds, the last-ditch effort of the engagement, the president's indication that it hadn't been enough, my certainty that I'll have to pay.

Gale never interrupts. While I talk, he tucks the gloves in his pocket and occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Capitol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. Hands that have the power to mine coal but the precision to set a delicate snare. Hands I trust.

I pause to take a drink of tea from the flask before I tell him about my homecoming.

"Well, you really made a mess of things," he says.

"I'm not even done," I tell him.

"I've heard enough for the moment.," he says. "Are you really getting married?"

"Yes. The president wants to use it as a distraction. To get everyone interested in a love story."

"Did it work?"

"Nope."

"Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. Or Finnick. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.

I look down at my lap. I can't look at him when I say the next part, "That's the problem. It would be better if he could just kill me and be done with it, but he can't."

"How would that be better? That's good. You have that to use as your protection."

I shake my head still not looking at him, "He can't kill me, but he can manipulate me. Just like he's manipulated Haymitch, Finnick, and many other Victor's before Peeta and I. He has me right where he wants me, because if I don't do something he wants he threatens to kill you or someone else that I love. So I have to do it, whatever it is."

Gale stands up, "Let's go!"

"What do you mean let's go? Go where?" I ask him.

"Let's go." he gestures to the woods, "We talked about it before. We can make it in the woods."

"I can't Gale."

"Why not?"

"Prim, Mom, Peeta, Rye, Nate, Thomas, Annie, Finnick, Haymitch, Rory, Vick..." I start listing names when he interrupts.

"Then we'll bring them with us."

"They'll find us." I say.

"So your just going to stand by and let the Capitol dictate your life?" he yells at me.

"No." I say, simply.

He was about to yell something else but my response takes him by surprise. He sit's back down, "Then what?"

"I told you I failed. We didn't defuse the districts. And now I wish I hadn't even tried to subdue them, I should have encouraged them. But Finnick's right, if I had done that we would all be dead by now. I failed the mission, and he is going to be looking for a way to punish me." Saying the words out loud make me realize how true they really are.

"And?"

"And as long as I do what he asks and do the best I can it should hold off long enough."

"So you're just going to let him force you to get married and whatever else he happens to have in mind?"

"He's not forcing me to get married, I want to get married, just not in the Capitol. And well, with an uprising in District Eight and Four, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!" I say starting to get aggravated with him.

The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate—the flush on his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. "There's an uprising in Eight and in Four?" he says in a hushed voice.

I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. "I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets —" I say.

Gale grabs my shoulders. "What did you see?"

"Nothing!" But I know that's a lie. As usual, it's too little, too late. I give up and tell him. "I saw something on the mayor's television about District 8. I wasn't supposed to. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back. ..." I bite my lip and struggle to continue describing the scene. "And in 4. I was there." I confess to him. "We were going to pick up Finnick's little sister and we ended up right in the middle of it."

"You were in the middle of it?" he asks almost envious to my horror, "What did you do?"

"We ran to Finnick's house, packed up his little sister and ran to leave. But they tried to stop us. We fought our way to the train and then they let us go."

I want to tell him about how they just stopped but I can't find the words. Instead I say aloud the words that have been eating me up inside. "And it's my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would've happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too."

"Safe to do what?" he says in a gentler tone. "Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people—you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight and District Four, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been—"

"Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people — they mean less than nothing to them!" I say thinking about all the people that have already gotten killed.

"That's why we have to join the fight!" he answers harshly.

"That is exactly what I want to do, but I need to make sure my family is protected before I can do that. I need to make sure you are protected. Then again, the president might have us killed before we have a chance to do anything. It's not the right time." I say repeating Finnick's words but he doesn't even hear me. Even though I want to fight back I know Finnick's right. It's not the right time.

"Maybe not right now but it will be. It will be soon."gale smiles. "You don't need to protect me Catnip. I can take care of myself."

There is a lot of tension between us but I'm happy he's calling me Catnip again. I realize now how much I have missed my friend.

"Long enough? Long enough for what?" he asks. I look at him confused. "You said something about as long as you do what he wants it should hold him back long enough."

I sigh, I don't want to tell him because I'm afraid he will go off and do something stupid. But I've told him this much, I might as well tell all. "You have to promise me you won't do anything stupid." I look him in the eyes.

He sees how serious I am, "I promise, Catnip, I won't do anything stupid."

It still doesn't feel like enough but I continue anyways, "Long enough for us to be ready."

"Who is us? And ready for what?"

I sigh again, "Long enough for the rebels to be ready, long enough for the rebels to be able to win the war."

He sits back leaning against the wall, taking it all in. Slowly I see a smile creep onto his face.

I frown.

"You should be happy, this is exactly what we have wanted." he tells me.

"I want to be free of the Capitol. I want to not to have to worry about every step I take. I even want to fight back. But at the same time, it terrifies me." I think about how many people will die in a war. How many of them will I know and love?

We start walking back. We get almost all the way to the fence before we say anything. "So when are you getting married?" Gale asks me.

"Which time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well the Capitol wedding will be sometime in the summer, but we are getting married here in secret next week." I answer.

"Next week? Isn't that a little soon?" he says getting aggravated.

I shrug. "I don't think so."

We cross the fence and walk through the meadow heading toward the hob.

"Do you really want to marry him Katniss?" he asks me.

I stop walking and he turns to face me, "Yes I do." I say seriously.

I see the pain from my answer touch his eyes. And I shake my head, "Gale, please." I beg.

"I hate the games," he tells me, "The games changed you. You never wanted to get married at all."

"Yes the games changed me, of course they did."

"Could you have ever loved me?" he asks softly, his question takes me by surprise.

I take a deep breath, "Maybe, maybe I could have, maybe if I didn't go to the games things would be different. _But I did_. Maybe if things were different before I left, but you didn't want it then, and I don't want it now. I do want to be your friend. I've missed having you as my friend."

"Alright." he says and he gives me the same smile he used to.

"You know, you might actually like him," I say.

"Don't push it." he says and we both turn to start walking to the hob.

We step around the corner of one of the old empty buildings and to our surprise we come face to face with a peacekeeper.

 **What will happen now? I don't know if I will get the next chapter finished before I go to bed, I go a late start writing today. I'll try to have the next chapter up tonight so I don't leave you hanging.**


	52. Chapter 52 Whipping

**Sorry this chapter took so long. I wrote it the way I thought I wanted it, but then I got to the end and it didn't have the effect I wanted so I deleted it and started again.**

 **Chapter Fifty Two: Whipping**

It's not a peacekeeper we know. But I recognize his uniform. It's the one designated for our Head Peacekeeper. This isn't old Cray, though. This is a tall, muscular man with sharp creases in his pants. He grabs the turkey from Gale's belt and holds it up in our faces. "Poaching off Capitol property?" he asks us.

What can we say, he's holding the evidence right in front of us.

"Are you hunting outside the fence?" he asks.

Automatically we both shake our heads no, "No," Gale says. Because we know the laws, even if they aren't usually enforced.

"We, we found it." I say quickly. "It was in the meadow and we caught it."

"I caught it, and stabbed it with a stick, she didn't have anything to do with it." Gale says quickly.

The peacekeeper looks at me doubtful but cuffs Gales hands and pushes him towards the square.

My mouth is hanging open in shock, in horror. My feet are frozen to the the spot on the ground. Caught poaching. Gale's in hand cuffs. Thoughts go through my head. My mind flashes to our television playing live whippings from all of the districts. _Oh no, oh please no._ Finally I am able to run after them. When I get to the square I am horrified to see Gale's wrists are bound to a wooden post. The wild turkey he shot earlier hangs above him, the nail driven through its neck. His jacket's been cast aside on the ground. The new peacekeeper is unrolling his whip.

I hear the whistle of the whip and wince as it laces across his back tearing his shirt and leaving an angry red line across his back. Then he quickly flicks his wrist making two more lashes across his back. Gale slumps against the post hanging by his wrists.

I see his arm raise the whip again. And I take off toward Gale, "No, stop!" I yell and I'm only 10 yards away from him when someone grabs me around the waist to stop me.

"Katniss, stop you can't." I recognize Rye's voice. I fight to get away from him but he's strong. I watch as the whip hits Gale, two, three, four times more. I fight to get away from Rye but he just holds me tighter. "Katniss, please you'll only make it worse." he whispers in my ear.

Tears are streaming down my face, as I hear the whip crack again and again. His whole back is raw and bloody. The whip cracks down again, and Gale falls unconscious.

"No!" I cry, and fall against Rye's chest. He loosens his grip on my and tries to pat my back, but instead I spring forward. It's too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won't have the power to block the next hit on Gale. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I've flung out my arms to protect as much of his body as possible, so there's nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face.

The pain is blinding and instantaneous. Jagged flashes of light cross my vision and I fall to my knees. One hand cups my cheek while the other keeps me from tipping over. I can already feel the welt rising up, the swelling closing my eye. The stones beneath me are wet with blood, the air heavy with its scent. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" I shriek.

I get a glimpse of my assailant's face. Hard, with deep lines, a cruel mouth. Gray hair shaved almost to nonexistence, eyes so black they seem all pupils, a long, straight nose reddened by the freezing air. The powerful arm lifts again, his sights set on me. My hand flies to my shoulder, hungry for an arrow, but, of course, my weapons are stashed in the woods. I grit my teeth in anticipation of the next lash.

I hear the whistle and the crack of the whip. It hits across my chest and shoulder. The pain makes my arm give out and I fall flat on the ground.

"How dare you interfere with the punishment of a confessed criminal?" he yells at me.

"Your going to kill him!" I manage to yell.

I see him raise the whip again and this time I manage to lift my arm to shield my face. I feel the whip hit the corner of my forehead my arm and my shoulder in the same spot as before.

I try to stifle a scream as he yanks my jacket off. The pull of the fabric against the wound intensifies the pain. Somewhere in my head I realize he pulled my jacket off to have more access to my skin, but at least his focus is off of Gale.

He goes to lift the whip again, when someone grabs his arm. In my eye that is still open I recognize, Darius. Another peacekeeper. "I think that's enough, Thread." _Thread, his name is Thread._

Thread takes the butt of the whip and knock's Darius unconscious.

I roll over onto my good side trying to ignore the pain, so I can get up. But before i make it he hits me two more times lashing across my arm, chest, and face.

The pain makes the world spin and then everything goes white. I fall to the ground again, and this time I know I can't get up. I'm braced for the next lash but it when it doesn't come I make myself open one eye.

At first I'm relieved when I see Finnick standing in front of me blocking the whip, but the next I dread it, not wanting him to get hurt. I see Thread getting even more angry and is about the let the whip fly when I hear someone.

"Hold it!" a voice barks. Haymitch appears breathlessly with Peeta right behind him and trips over Darius lying on the ground. A huge purple lump pushes through the red hair on his forehead. He's knocked out but still breathing.

Haymitch ignores him and pulls me to my feet quickly. I can't help the cry that comes from my lips. Finnick is there in an instant holding me up.

"Oh, excellent." Haymitch hand gestures to me "She's got a photo shoot next week modeling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?"

Peeta and Finnick stand on either side of me.

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. Bundled against the cold, my face free of makeup, my braid tucked carelessly under my coat, it wouldn't be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he'd be difficult to forget.

The man rests the whip on his hip. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."

Everything about this man, his commanding voice, his odd accent, warns of an unknown and dangerous threat. Where has he come from? District 11? 3? From the Capitol itself?

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her face! Think that will be camera ready in a week?" Haymitch snarls.

The man's voice is still cold, but I can detect a slight edge of doubt. "That's not my problem."

"No? Well, it's about to be, my friend. The first call I make when I get home is to the Capitol," says Haymitch. "Find out who authorized you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!"

"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" says the man.

"He's her cousin." Peeta's steps up next to Finnick. "And she is my sister."

"And she's my fiancé. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us." Finnick Adds.

Maybe we're it. The only four people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it's sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. But at the moment, all I care about is keeping Gale alive. The new Head Peacekeeper glances over at his backup squad. With relief, I see they're familiar faces, old friends from the Hob. You can tell by their expressions that they're not enjoying the show.

One, a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae's, steps forward stiffly. "I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad."

"Is that the standard protocol here?" asks the Head Peacekeeper.

"Yes, sir," Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I'm sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks.

"Very well. Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally." The Head Peacekeeper wipes his hand along the length of the whip, splattering us with blood. Then he coils it into quick, neat loops and walks off.

Most of the other Peacekeepers fall in an awkward formation behind him. A small group stays behind and hoists Darius's body up by the arms and legs. I catch Purnia's eye and mouth the word "Thanks" before she goes. She doesn't respond, but I'm sure she understood.

And that's it, all the effort I have left to stand up straight. My knees start to buckle and then I'm being lifted. I recognize Finnick's arms and the pain of being held almost makes me black out.

"Gale." I try to turn my face.

"Better get him to your mother," says Haymitch to me, "you too."

"I'm okay," I try to say because I only received a fraction of the whips Gale did, and I'm in pain.

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, comes over. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. "Need help getting back?" Her gray eyes are scared but determined.

"No, but can you get Hazelle? Send her over?" Haymitch asks.

"Yeah," says Leevy, turning on her heel.

"Leevy!" Peeta says after her. "Don't let her bring the kids."

"No. I'll stay with them myself," she says.

Bristel and Thorn, Gale's crewmates help Peeta and Haymitch carry Gale to my mother. Finnick carries me behind them.

I hear Bristel and Thorn, piece together the story of what happened to Haymitch, Peeta and Finnick.

"What about Darius?" Peeta asks.

"He stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn't do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread's arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him," says Bristel.

"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," says Haymitch.

A golden light colors the snow as the door opens. My mother has a set of medical supplies in the living room and the couch covered with a white sheet. I look in to see the kitchen table cleared and ready as well. How did she know?

"New Head," Haymitch says, and she gives him a curt nod as if no other explanation is needed.

Finnick lays me down on the couch, and the world goes black.

* * *

 **I thought I was going to have Katniss take the blame and get whipped instead of Gale, but since the whole country is watching the whippings I thought it would have more impact if she fought back and tried to stop it. I hope you liked it.**


	53. Chapter 53 Changes

**Sorry it took me so long to update this one. I've been crazy busy lately! Not much action in this chapter but it helps transition to what is coming.**

 **Chapter Fifty Three: Changes**

The first thing I'm aware of is excruciating pain radiating through my upper left side. I will myself to fall back under but then everything comes back to me: talking to Gale in the woods, the turkey, Gale getting whipped, me getting whipped.

I force myself to open my eyes. I settle for one eye open because my left eye is swollen shut.

Sunlight is just starting to come in the windows. I realize I am in the living room, still on the couch. Finnick is sitting next to me asleep.

"Well, look who's awake." I hear Haymitch's voice but it takes me a second to find him in the room. He is sitting in the corner in the arm chair.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?"

All I can do is groan.

"That's what I thought."

"Gale?" I manage to ask him.

"Looks like he's going to be fine. There used to be a lot of whippings before Cray, your mom was the one we took him too.

I can't remember a time before Cray, a time when there was a Head Peacekeeper who used the whip freely. But my mother must have been around my age and still working at the apothecary shop with her parents. Even back then, she must have had healer's hands.

I try to nod, but I can't. And it's not long until whatever medicine I'm on is pulling me under again.

* * *

The next time I wake up, I'm more alert.

Shivering, I realize I'm really cold, but the pain is eased. Opening my eyes, both of them, I find myself covered in green tinted snow. For a moment I'm disoriented as I realize I'm in my bedroom, not on the couch. I've been changed out of my torn clothes as well. My muscles ache slightly from not moving and I stretch my legs out.

"Katniss," I hear Finnick's voice and I carefully turn my head to look at him without disturbing the snow. He kisses my forehead gently avoiding the lash on my head. "How are you feeling, love?"

I do my best to smile at him, "It feels better, not as much pain." I tell him.

He looks visibly relieved, "Thank goodness."

"How is Gale?" I ask him.

"He's doing okay, the snow coat is helping him too." _Snow coat._ So that's what this is called.

"It's a good thing we have snow." I say, "I wonder what they did in the summer."

Finnick shakes his head, "I don't think I want to know."

I agree.

There's a light knock on the door, then my mom comes in. She smiles when she sees me awake, "It's good to see you awake,"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Well, I've had you and Gale both on pain medicine, mixed with sleep syrup for about two days."

"Two days.." Wow two days, no wonder my legs ache.

Finnick moves to the other side of the bed so my mother can look at my wounds. She takes off the snow coat blanket. I can clearly see the whip marks on my arm and I imagine my face looks the same. The wounds aren't open anymore, but they are still swollen. My mom bandages me up the best she can and returns down stairs.

I notice Finnick is glaring at me. "What?" I ask, sitting up.

He takes a deep breath, I see the relief of having me awake as worn off. "Katniss... I" he sounds angry, struggling for words. He stands up and starts pacing the room.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask him feeling nervous.

He sighs, "Katniss you just.. threw yourself in front of that whip... right in the middle of trouble..."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have..." he throws his hands up in the air.

"See you don't even know!"

"You could have came and got me, or Peeta, or Haymitch or all of us!" he says almost yelling.

"He could have been dead by then! You think I should have just let him die?" I'm yelling now.

He sighs again, "No. But I do think you need to not be so ready to throw yourself into danger. You could have been killed. He could have killed you for interfering with a punishment. Please, please stop jumping into trouble." his voice is softer now, and I see the hurt in his eyes.

My anger fades, "Finnick, honey, I had to do something, I couldn't just stand and watch. I..." I stand up awkwardly putting the pressure on just my good arm and I put my hand on his face. He leans into it, "There are going to be times when I'm in danger. Just like there are going to be times when you are in danger."

"I never want to see you in danger." he says looking into my eyes.

"I never want to see you in danger. But we both have to realize that we are heading into a rebellion and we are right in the middle of it."

"Promise me you will always come back to me."

I smile, "I thought you knew? We're in this together, until the end."

"Together." He kisses me gently, "Now get back to bed." he pretends to swat at me.

* * *

I spend the next few days around the house. My wounds get progressively better but they still hurt. They have scabbed over now. I'm getting a little stir crazy in the house. I've only been allowed to go out to the porch. Everyone has tried their best to make it easier on me, but I know I've still been short tempered and a bit of a grouch.

Prim tried to get me interesting in a book. So for a while I sat down and read, and honestly I thought it was interesting but I could only do it for a short period of time before I need to _do_ something. But there wasn't anything to do. Finnick taught me how to tie knots. And while it keeps my fingers busy it isn't enough to keep me for long. Annie got me to play games with her and that was fun for a while too. Peeta tried to teach me how to bake and that ended with a complete fail. What I really need is to get out of the house.

Finally, finally I convince Finnick to go on a walk through town and Peeta comes with us.

We rouse Haymitch and drag him along with us. Haymitch complains, but not as much as usual. We all know we need to discuss what happened.

Haymitch asks. "Any new ideas?"

"I want to start an uprising," I say.

Haymitch just laughs. It's not even a mean laugh, which is more troubling. It shows he can't even take me seriously. "Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though," he says.

"Then what's your plan?" I spit back at him.

"My plan is to make sure everything is just perfect for your wedding," says Haymitch. "I called and rescheduled the photo shoot without giving too many details."

"You don't even have a phone," I say.

"Effie had that fixed," he says. "Do you know she asked me if I'd like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better."

"Haymitch." I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice.

"Katniss." He mimics my tone. "It won't work. Not here, not yet."

"The attitude is different here than the districts with uprisings." Finnick adds.

"And anyone who tries anything, Thread is going to come down on hard." Peeta adds.

His mention of Thread reminds me of something, "How did you all know to come to the square, when I was whipped?"

They all look at each other, when Finnick speaks, "Well, you know how all the whippings are playing live on television?" he asks.

I nod. Then I realize what he is saying. They watched me get whipped, they saw it on television. I was whipped on every screen in Panem. _"_ I bet President Snow loved seeing that." I roll my eyes.

"Well he might have, for a second. But then I'm sure he hated it." Peeta says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well everyone in the country who happened to be watching the television saw you jump in front of Gale, defending him." Peeta says.

I shrug, "So?"

"It's caused trouble. Good trouble and bad trouble depending on how you look at him." Finnick tells me.

"Sweetheart, pretty much it's the talk of the country. Or at least every district we have friends in. Katniss Everdeen is fighting back. You have inspired them, even more now than you already have. You are defying the Capitol and they love it." Haymitch tells me straight.

I sense there is more, "But?"

"But, as it is good for the Rebels, it is bad for you." Haymitch clarifies.

I gulp, just another reason for President Snow to have me killed. I've just put my family in danger, again.

"It's alright Katniss, it's going to be okay." Finnick tells me seriously.

We stop talking about anything serious as we get closer to the square.

We step into the square and all come to a stop simultaneously. The square has been transformed. A huge banner with the seal of Panem hangs off the roof of the Justice Building. Peacekeepers, in pristine white uniforms, march on the cleanly swept cobblestones. Along the rooftops, more of them occupy nests of machine guns. Most unnerving is a line of new constructions —an official whipping post, several stockades, and a gallows — set up inn the center of the square.

"Thread's a quick worker," says Haymitch

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their living there.

"Haymitch, you don't think everyone was still in-—" I can't finish the sentence.

"Nah, they're smarter than that. You'd be, too, if you'd been around longer," he says.

"Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare."

He trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. "What's he want that for?" Then I realize the answer. "We can't let him drink it. He'll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I've got some white liquor put away at home."

"Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business," says Peeta. "I need to check on my family."

"I have to go see Hazelle." I'm worried now.

"I'll go, too. Drop by the bakery on my way home," he says.

"Thanks." I'm suddenly very scared at what I might streets are almost deserted, which would not be so unusual at this time of day if people were at the mines, kids at school. But they're not. I see faces peeking at us out of doorways, through cracks in shutters. Finnick holds my hand tightly reassuringly.

An uprising, I think. What an idiot I am. There's an inherent flaw in the plan that both Gale and I were too blind to see. An uprising requires breaking the law, thwarting authority. We've done that our whole lives, or our families have. Poaching, trading on the black market, mocking the Capitol in the woods. But for most people in District 12, a trip to buy something at the Hob would be too risky. And I expect them to assemble in the square with bricks and torches? Even the sight of Peeta, Finnick, and me is enough to make people pull their children away from the windows and draw the curtains tightly.

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. "I couldn't leave her," she says. "I knew Gale'd be in the best possible hands."

"Of course," I say. "He's much better. My mother says he'll be back in the mines in a couple of weeks."

"May not be open until then, anyway," says Hazelle. "Word is they're closed until further notice." She gives a nervous glance at her empty washtub.

"You closed down, too?" I ask.

"Not officially," says Hazelle. "But everyone's afraid to use me now."

"Maybe it's the snow," says Peeta.

"No, Rory made a quick round this morning. Nothing to wash, apparently," she says.

Rory wraps his arms around Hazelle. "We'll be all right."

I take a handful of money from my pocket and lay it on the table. "My mother will send something for Posy."

When we're outside, I turn to Peeta. "You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob."

"I'll go with you guys," he says

"No. I've dragged you into enough trouble," I tell him.

"And avoiding a stroll by the Hob ... that's going to fix things for me?" He smiles and nudges me rolling his eyes.

We wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building. They haven't even bothered to leave Peacekeepers around it. They know no one would try to save it.

The heat from the flames melts the surrounding snow and a black trickle runs across my shoes. "It's all that coal dust, from the old days," I say. It was in every crack and crevice.

Ground into the floorboards. It's amazing the place didn't go up before. "I want to check on Greasy Sae."

"Not today, Katniss. I don't think we'd be helping anyone by dropping in on them," Finnick says.

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Thomas while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. Thomas tells me to be careful. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers' faces.

Things only get worse. The mines shut down, and stay shut down for almost two weeks. People are punished for offences so long overlooked we've forgotten they are illegal.

Gale goes home to wait for the mines to reopen.

I get Haymitch to hire Hazelle as a housekeeper, resulting in some extra money for her and greatly increasing Haymitch's standard of living. Its weird going to his house finding it fresh and clean. He hardly notices because he is fighting a whole different battle. Peeta and I tried to ration what white liquor we had, but its almost run out. The last time I saw Ripper, she was in the stocks.

A crate of wedding dresses arrives one day with a note from Effie saying President Snow approved these himself. The wedding. Is he really planning to go through with it? What, in his twisted brain will that achieve? Is he still trying to distract the country?

Our own personal wedding is still being held. That is the one thing I am looking forward too. Only three more days until the wedding, our real wedding. Then I will be Mrs. Odair. _Katniss_ _Odair. I kind of like the sound of that._


	54. Chapter 54 Woods

**Kind of a boring Chapter but I wanted to include Katniss going out in the woods and coming back with the fence electrified. I think it shows some of the changes going on is District 12.**

 **Chapter Fifty Four: Woods**

More time in the house, and I am getting stir crazy again. On the day before our wedding, I decide I need to get out, just for a little bit. I know Finnick won't let me go by myself. It's not that I don't want him to come with me it's just that I want to spend sometime alone, and organize my thoughts, clear my head. I find the perfect opening when Finnick starts a card game with Annie and Prim.

In the middle of their hand, I walk over, "I think I'm going to go spend some time outside for a little bit."

Finnick tires to catch my eye but I avoid it. Knowing he will know what I am doing.

"Don't stay out too long," Prim warns me.

"I won't" I grab my jacket and hustle out the door before anyone else can say anything. I feel Finnick's eyes burn into my back the whole way. I know he will be mad when I get back.

Without even thinking about it I head towards our old house and to the meadow. But when I get there, I don't go in. The woods are forbidden, but I can't seem to help myself when I see the familiar hole in the fence. I spend a few hours in the woods. I start to clear my head and breath again.

So much has been going on, and I know in my heart it is only going to get worse. When the games start I will make Finnick take me to the Rebel's yearly meeting so we can get something going. That thought calms me. I have a plan. That group will know what to do they have been planning this for years. Now is the time. It has to be. How could there ever be a better time than now?

I think about our wedding. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will no longer be Katniss Everdeen. I never thought I would get married. I never wanted to chance bringing children into this world. A world where their name goes into a bowl to have to fight to the death. But then Finnick happened. And I can't imagine not getting married to him. And I want to have his children. But one thing hasn't changed. I don't want to have my children have to fight to the death like we did. I hope they never have to know what this feels like.

 _They won't._ I promise myself. We have to do this! We have to start this war!

I start to head back, and when I get to the fence I notice its charged.

My feet back up and automatically and I blend into the trees. I cover my mouth with my glove to disperse the white of my breath in the icy air. Adrenaline courses through me, wiping all the concerns of the day from my mind as I focus on the immediate threat before me. What is going on? Has Thread turned on the fence as an additional security precaution? Or does he somehow know I've escaped his net today? Is he determined to strand me outside District 12 until he can apprehend and arrest me? Drag me to the square to be locked in the stockade or whipped or hanged?

Calm down, I order myself. It's not as if this is the first time I've been caught outside of the district by an electrified fence. It's happened a few times over the years, but Gale was always with me. The two of us would just pick a comfortable tree to hang out in until the power shut off, which it always did eventually. If I was running late, Prim even got in the habit of going to the Meadow to check if the fence was charged, to spare my mother worry.

But today my family would never imagine I'd be in the woods. I've even taken steps to mislead them. So if I don't show up, worry they will. And there's a part of me that's worried, too, because I'm not sure it's just a coincidence, the power coming on the very day I return to the woods.I thought no one saw me sneak under the fence, but who knows? There are always eyes for hire. Someone reported Gale kissing me in that very spot. Could there be surveillance cameras? I've wondered about this before. Is this the way President Snow knows about the kiss? All I can see is the wet snow illuminated here and there by the light from the windows on the edge of the Seam. No Peacekeepers in sight, no signs I am being hunted. Whether Thread knows I left the district or not, I realize my course of action must be the same: to get back inside the fence unseen and pretend I never left.

Any contact with the chain link or the coils of barbed wire that guard the top would mean instant electrocution. I don't think I can burrow under the fence without risking detection, and the ground's frozen hard, anyway. That leaves only one choice. Somehow I'm going to have to go over it.

I begin to skirt along the tree line, searching for a tree with a branch high and long enough to fit my needs. After about a mile, I come upon an old maple that might do. The trunk is too wide and icy to shinny up, though, and there are no low branches. I climb a neighboring tree and leap precariously into the maple, almost losing my hold on the slick bark. But I manage to get a grip and slowly inch my way out on a limb that hangs above the barbed wire.

As I look down, I remember why Gale and I always waited in the woods rather than try to tackle the fence. Being high enough to avoid getting fried means you've got to be at least twenty feet in the air. I guess my branch must be twenty-five. That's a dangerously long drop, even for someone who's had years of practice in trees. But what choice do I have? I could look for another branch, but it's almost dark now. The falling snow will obscure any moonlight. Here, at least, I can see I've got a snowbank to cushion my landing. Even if I could find another, which is doubtful, who knows what I'd be jumping into?

I throw my empty game bag around my neck and slowly lower myself until I'm hanging by my hands. For a moment, I gather my courage. Then I release my fingers.

There's the sensation of falling, then I hit the ground with a jolt that goes right up my spine. A second later, my rear end slams the ground. I lie in the snow, trying to assess the damage. Without standing, I can tell by the pain in my left heel and my tailbone that I'm injured. The only question is how badly. I'm hoping for bruises. I can walk, though, so I get moving, trying to hide my limp as best I can.

My mother and Prim can't know I was in the woods. I need to work up some sort of alibi, no matter how thin. Some of the shops in the square are still open, so I go in one and purchase white cloth for bandages. We're running low, anyway. In another, I buy a bag of sweets for Prim. I stick one of the candies in my mouth, feeling the peppermint melt on my tongue, and realize it's the first thing I've eaten all day.

By the time I reach my house, I'm only limping a little. I don't think I've broken anything. I decide to tell my mother I was trying to mend a leak in the roof of our old house and slid off. I drag myself in the door, all ready to collapse in front of the fire. But instead I get another shock.

Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man's face. I am unanticipated. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now.

"Hello," I say in a neutral voice.

My mother appears behind them, but keeps her distance. "Here she is, just in time for dinner," she says a little too brightly.

I consider removing my boots as I normally would but doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just pull off my wet hood and shake the snow from my hair.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask the Peacekeepers.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman.

"They've been waiting for hours," my mother adds.

They've been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning.

"Must be an important message," I say.

"May we ask where you've been, Miss Everdeen?" the woman asks.

"Easier to ask where I haven't been," I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross into the kitchen, forcing myself to walk normally ignoring my bruises. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Prim and Annie, who are sitting stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch and Peeta are there as well, sitting in a pair of matching rockers, playing a game of chess. Finnick is sitting with them watching. Were they here by chance or "invited" by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I'm glad to see them.

"So where haven't you been?" says Haymitch in a bored voice.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," I say to Prim emphatically.

"No, I didn't," says Prim. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," I say.

"The east entrance," Prim corrects me.

"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' and you said, 'Yeah,'" I say.

"The slag heap next to the east entrance," says Prim patiently.

"No. When did you say that?" I demand.

"Last night," Haymitch chimes in.

"It was definitely the east," adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."

"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," says Haymitch.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I say, clearly indicating he's right.

Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile.

"Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they've made it this far, Haymitch and Peeta.

Nothing throws them.

I look at the Peacekeepers. The man's smiling but the woman is unconvinced. "What's in the bag?" she asks sharply.

I know she's hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. "See for yourself."

"Oh, good," says my mother, examining the cloth. "We're running low on bandages."

Finnick comes to the table and opens the candy bag. "Ooh, peppermints," he says, popping one in his mouth.

"They're mine." I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Annie. "None of you deserves candy!" I say.

"What, because we're right?" Peeta wraps ruffles my hair. "Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?"

"Better," I say.

Finnick puts his arm around me and I accept his kiss. "I knew I should have gone with you." he says playfully but I know he is serious.

Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I'm suddenly remembering they're there. "You have a message for me?"

"From Head Peacekeeper Thread," says the woman. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."

"Didn't it already?" I ask, a little too innocently.

"He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin," says the woman.

"Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse." I'm pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

The woman's jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders.

She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

"What is it?" says Peeta, holding me steadily.

"Oh, I'm just a little bruised." Finnick puts me in the closest chair.

My mother eases off my boots. "What happened?"

"I slipped and fell," I say. Six pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. "On some ice." But we all know it's not safe to talk openly. Not here, especially if the Peacekeepers were just here they could have placed bugs. Finnick went around and found 6 of them in the house and discarded all but the one in the main living room so it didn't look suspicious. Who knows if they placed more tonight without us knowing.

I strip off my sock, my mother's fingers probe the bones in my left heel. "I don't think there is a break, just bruising," she says.

Conversation changes to safer topics.

"Are you going to try on your wedding dresses?" Annie asks me excitedly and I see Prim looking forward to it too.

"Not tonight. Tomorrow probably," I say. I don't want to put on the Capitol dresses. I don't want to do anything that has to do with the Capitol. I know I'm acting childish and they I will have to but I don't have to tonight.

Suddenly I look around the house and see no trace of wedding decorations. "Where are all the decorations?"

"We put them away." Prim tells me.

Which translates to the peacekeepers didn't need to see them.

"Besides, you don't get to see the finished pieces until tomorrow." Annie smiles in anticipation.

Haymitch comes in the back door, and hands me a tiny device. He presses a button and a green light appears. I raise my eyebrows, "It's from Beetee, it disrupts bugs." He tells me, and then leaves.

I smile, Beetee thinks of everything.

 **Wedding next chapter!**


	55. Chapter 55 Wedding

**Chapter Fifty Five: Wedding?**

Waking up to nightmares in an empty bed, makes me start to panic? Where is Finnick? I get up and start to run downstairs when Annie meets me at the bottom of the stairs.

"Katniss, I was just coming to see if you were awake and ready for breakfast?" She smiles excited for the day.

It's then that I remember, it's my wedding day and I'm not allowed to see Finnick that's why he wasn't in bed.

My stomach growls at her words, "Breakfast sounds good." I start to head to the kitchen.

Annie puts her hand on the stair rail blocking me, "Oh no you don't. Back upstairs with you."

"But breakfast..?"

"I will bring it up to you, you can't go in the kitchen Finnick is in the kitchen."

I hesitate. I really want to see Finnick and if I make a mad dash to the kitchen I doubt Annie would be able to stop me. I sigh, and turn around.

A few moments after I enter my room Annie comes up with a tray of food. I sit on the bed to eat it and Annie sits next to me.

"Katniss?" she asks.

I look at her, "What is it Annie?"

She crosses the room so she is standing right in front of me, "I'm really glad you are going to be my sister." She says in a quiet voice.

I smile, standing up and giving her a hug. "Me too, Annie, Me too."

As she exits my room she squeals in excitement.

After I eat I lay back down to try to take a quick nap. Since I'm confined to the upstairs, I expect the day will pass slow so a nap can't hurt. I fall asleep quickly, exhausted.

I wake up to someone shaking me, "Katniss, Katniss!"

Managing to open my eyes, I see Prim standing over me. She is already dressed in a store bought pink dress, the one we bought for her to wear at the wedding. Annie has a matching one. Looking at the window I see that it is late afternoon and we are getting married at sunset.

I sit straight up, "Prim why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"You looked so tired Katniss, we wanted to let you sleep as long as possible. In fact Finnick, insisted that you sleep."

I yawn, _how did I sleep so late?_

Prim and Annie come help me get ready and when I'm almost done my mom comes up to do my hair. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a simple long sleeved white dress. It's a silky fabric unlike anything I've ever worn. It's beautiful. Cinna made it for me and he sent it with the Capitol wedding dresses knowing I would really want to wear this one. I'll have to remember to thank him again. My hair is loose around my shoulders with just the top pulled back in tiny braids. The braids look like a flower. The only thing that doesn't fit is the scars from the whips. They have almost fully healed, but the scars will always mar my face, and chest. The ones on my arm are hidden underneath the dress.

They are the only scars I have now. The Capitol erased all of my scars after I won the games. Part of me wants them to stay, as a reminder.

"Are you nervous?" Prim asks me.

I think about it for a moment, then shake my head. "No I'm not nervous. Not about marrying Finnick. I know really, it hasn't been that long but I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

Prim and Annie have tears in their eyes when there is a knock on the door.

"Ready?" Thomas, my dad asks me, and I nod.

Prim and Annie rush down stairs to take their places.

I walk with Thomas down the stairs and out the back door. The ceremony is being held in the back yard. There are flowers all over the back yard. My mom, Prim, Annie, Haymitch, and Peeta all stand off to the side watching me. When I see Finnick, in his suit, I have no doubts, I know this is exactly what I want.

And I don't think about the Capitol, about uprisings, about whippings, of about starting a rebellion. All I think about is how much I love this man.

The mayor authenticates the ceremony, and Finnick and I say our vows together at the same time. We decided to keep it simple:

"I promise to love you and protect you for the rest of my life."

Then the mayor pronounces us Husband and Wife, and Finnick is kissing me. I almost forget about the other people in the room until Haymitch clears his throat. I start to pull back, my face blushing.

The rest of the night we dance and laugh and eat. The cake that Peeta made is beautiful. He made the cake based on us. It has a forest and ocean and some how it all comes together. It was a shame to cut into it but it tastes just as good. We save all the worries for tomorrow, because it will be here soon enough.

* * *

I wake up smiling to Finnick's lips on my neck, "Good morning, Mrs. Odair."

"MMmmm I like the sound of that Mr. Odair."

He chuckles, kissing my lips and I eagerly kiss him back, "I've always been Mr. Odair, but today is your first full day as Mrs. Odair. I think we should celebrate."

I laugh at his reasoning, "Celebrate? Isn't that what our wedding was for?"

"That was to get married, now I want to celebrate you being Mrs. Odair."

"Celebrate how?" I ask innocently.

"I think I can come up with something." he says trailing kisses down my neck and stomach.

I close my eyes and enjoy feeling his lips on me, everywhere he kisses leaves a light, blissful, tingling feeling.

We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon in our room. Nobody comes to disturb us. We lay around in bed, read to each other, make love, sleep, talk, and just enjoy being with each other alone. It's the perfect first day as husband and wife.


	56. Chapter 56 Surprise

**Chapter Fifty Six: Surprise**

When we fall asleep that night I find myself wishing we could spend more days like this. But I know that's not possible. We have Prim and Annie to take care of. We have a Capitol to please. I roll my eyes. I sleep soundly through the night even though all we've done is lounge around all day long.

Waking up in the morning, I see it's still early. I'm still tired. I feel embarrassed about spending the day in bed with my husband the day before. My cheeks color at the thought of Prim, Annie, and my mother knowing we were upstairs alone all day yesterday. Instead of going back to sleep I decide to get up. As soon as I sit up I feel dizzy. I pause for a moment to try to clear it away and then I rush to the bathroom. I make it just in time before I throw up.

I hardly ever get sick. But something is definitely making me sick today. Once I can't throw up anymore, I sit back against the wall and put my head between my knees.

"Kat?" I hear Finnick call from bed.

I don't respond, and he is quickly sitting next to me in the bathroom, "Katniss? Are you okay?" he asks concerned.

I nod, "I just, felt sick." I say looking at him.

Taking a few deep breaths I start to feel better. "How do you feel now?" he asks.

"I think I'm okay." I say. The dizziness seems to have passed.

"Well, let's get you up off the floor then." he says pulling me to my feet.

We both get dressed and I brush my teeth. We start to head down stairs for breakfast, even though I don't want to risk eating anything. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, there is a knock at the door. That's odd. We aren't expecting anyone. Peeta and Haymitch don't knock, they just come in.

Finnick opens the door to find my prep team.

Venia, Octavia, and Flavius almost swoon at seeing Finnick.

"Surprise!" they finally manage to squeal. "We're here early!"

After I took that lash in the face, Haymitch got their visit pushed back several months so I could heal up. I wasn't expecting them for another three weeks. But I try to act delighted that my bridal photo shoot is here at last. My mother hung up all the dresses, so they're ready to go, but to be honest, I haven't even tried one on.  
The only dress I have put on was my real wedding dress.

I'm quickly whisked up to my room to get ready. Finnick gives me a concerned smile.

After the usual histrionics about the deteriorated state of my beauty, they get right down to business. Their biggest concern is my scars, although I think my mother did a pretty remarkable job healing it. There's just a pale pink strip across my cheekbone and on my forehead into my hair line. The ones on my chest are visible in almost all the dresses as well. Everyone in the districts saw the whipping, but it's not common knowledge in the Capitol, so I tell them I slipped on the ice. But Flavius, Octavia, and Venia aren't the suspicious types, so I'm safe there.

Since I only have to look hairless for a few hours instead of several weeks, I get to be shaved instead of waxed. I still have to soak in a tub of something, but it isn't vile, and we're on to my hair and makeup before I know it. The team, as usual, is full of news, which I usually do my best to tune out. But then Octavia makes a comment that catches my attention. It's a passing remark, really, about how she couldn't get shrimp for a party, but it tugs at me.

"Why couldn't you get shrimp? Is it out of season?" I ask.

"Oh, Katniss, we haven't been able to get any seafood for weeks!" says Octavia. "You know, because the weather's been so bad in District Four."

My mind starts buzzing. No seafood. For weeks. From District 4. I remember seeing the burning docks and fighting the peacekeepers. District Four is still fighting.

I begin to question them casually about what other hardships this winter has brought them. They are not used to want, so any little disruption in supply makes an impact on them. By the time I'm ready to be dressed, their complaints about the difficulty of getting different products — from crab meat to music chips to ribbons — has given me a sense of which districts might actually be rebelling. Seafood from District 4. Electronic gadgets from District 3. And, of course, fabrics from District 8. The thought of such widespread rebellion has me quivering with fear and excitement.

I want to ask them more, but Cinna appears to give me a hug and checks my makeup. His attention goes right to my scars. Somehow I don't think he believes the slipping-on-the-ice story, but he doesn't question it. He simply adjusts the powder on my face, and what little you can see of the lash mark vanishes. Then he applies something on my chest and those scars vanish as well.

Downstairs, the living room has been cleared and lit for the photo shoot. Effie's having a fine time ordering everybody around, keeping us all on schedule. It's probably a good thing, because there are six gowns and each one requires its own headpiece, shoes, jewelry, hair, makeup, setting, and lighting. Creamy lace and pink roses and ringlets. Ivory satin and gold tattoos and greenery. A sheath of diamonds and jeweled veil and moonlight. Heavy white silk and sleeves that fall from my wrist to the floor, and pearls. The moment one shot has been approved, we move right into preparing for the next. I feel like dough, being kneaded and reshaped again and again. My mother manages to feed me bits of food and sips of tea while they work on me, but by the time the shoot is over, I'm starving and exhausted. I'm hoping to spend some time with Cinna now, I want to tell him about the wedding and thank him for the dress but Effie whisks everybody out the door and I have to make do with the promise of a phone call.

Its not that I don't like the wedding dresses. They are all very pretty but very lavish and big. Which is not me at all. The dress I wore on my actual wedding wouldn't do for the Capitol. How ironic that I am already married when doing this photo shoot.

I go upstairs and wash away the layers of makeup and conditioners and dyes and then go down to dry my hair by the fire. When I come back down the stairs Finnick looks at me and smiles, "Ah back to the Katniss I know and love." he says jokingly. I roll my eyes at him.

Prim and Annie, who came home from school in time to see the last two dresses, chatter on about them with my mother. They all seem overly happy about the photo shoot. I realize it's because they think it means I'm safe. That the Capitol has overlooked my interference with the whipping since no one is going to go to such trouble and expense for someone they plan on killing, anyway. Right.

The next thing I know I'm being lifted. I crack open my eyes to see Finnick. I must have fallen asleep in the living room.

In my nightmare, I'm dressed in the silk bridal gown, but it's torn and muddy. The long sleeves keep getting caught on thorns and branches as I run through the woods. The pack of mutation tributes draws closer and closer until it overcomes me with hot breath and dripping fangs and I scream myself awake.

I wake up Finnick too, he rolls over on his side facing me, "It was just a dream, love," he strokes my face, "I'm right here."

I nod, "I know. I'm glad your here though." my voice is a little hoarse from my scream.

"No where else I'd rather be," he winks at me, "Let me get you some water."

He exits the room and I hear his feet on the stairs. I sit up and feel dizzy again. I'm about to lay back down, but again I'm rushing to the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up.

I manage to get back in bed before Finnick comes in with a glass of water. The water helps me feel better. For some reason, I don't want him to know about me being sick again.

* * *

I eat breakfast with my mother, Prim, Annie, and Finnick like always.

I feel the need for fresh air. Maybe that's why I've been sleeping so much:I haven't gotten outside enough. Finnick agrees to come on a walk with me. The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.

We walk by Peeta's house but he's not home. I guess he's already gone into town. We stop by Haymitch's and I'm surprised to see Haymitch moving around his kitchen so early, though. We walk into his house without knocking. I can hear Hazelle upstairs, sweeping the floors of the now-spotless house. Haymitch isn't flat-out drunk, but he doesn't look too steady, either. I guess the rumors about Ripper being back in business are true. I'm thinking maybe we better let him just go to bed, when he suggests a walk to town.

Haymitch and I can speak in a kind of shorthand now. In a few minutes I've updated both Haymitch and Finnick on what I've learned from my prep team. Haymitch tells us about rumors of uprisings in Districts 7 and 11 as well. If my hunches are right, this would mean almost half the districts have at least attempted to rebel.

"Do you still think it won't work here?" I ask.

"Not yet. Those other districts, they're much larger. Even if half the people cower in their homes, the rebels stand a chance. Here in Twelve, it's got to be all of us or nothing," he says.

I hadn't thought of that. How we lack strength of numbers. "But maybe at some point?" I insist.

"Maybe. But we're small, we're weak, and we don't develop nuclear weapons," says Haymitch with a touch of sarcasm.

"Nuclear weapons?" I ask Haymitch.

Finnick nudges Haymitch and Haymitch backtracks, "Just be nice if we developed something that would help us win. Like if we developed nuclear weapons."

I know they are hiding something from me, and I plan on getting it out of Finnick later. For now, I ask, "What do you think they'll do, Haymitch? To the districts that are rebelling?"

"Well, you've heard what they did in Eight. You've seen District Four in the middle of it. You've seen what they did here, and that was without provocation," says Haymitch. "If things really do get out of hand, I think they'd have no problem killing off another district, same as they did Thirteen. Make an example of it, you know?"

"Then create another torturous reminder like the hunger games," Finnick says rolling his eyes.

Finnick says he is going to go to the General store. He's surprised when I tell him I'll meet up with him in a few minutes and we can walk home together, instead of going with him. He looks concerned but he lets me go.

I walk along the shops in town and end up at the clinic. It's just a small place in town with a medic. Most people in Twelve can't afford to come here and they usually go see my mother.

"Good afternoon, Katniss." Mrs. Parks days when she sees me. "Come to get the supplies for your mother? They came in just yesterday."

She gathers them up into a bag and hands it out to me. I take it but still hesitate. There is another reason why I am here even if I can't admit it to myself. She must sense it because she asks, "Is something wrong Katniss?"

"I don't know." I answer honestly, but I can't bring myself to say anymore. I know Mrs. Parks won't say anything to anyone else, but some reason I can't even manage to say it out loud. Finally I say, "I've been tired a lot lately and I've been getting sick..." She must sense there is more I'm not telling her.

"Come on," she says walking in the back. She walks me into a patient room and she shuffles around on a shelf. Finding what she is looking for she comes over to me. I see the metal tube. She has me put my finger inside. I feel the familiar poke where it takes a bit of blood. I close my eyes tight not wanting to see the results. She puts the reader into my hands.

Finally I open them and read: POSITIVE: SIX WEEKS


	57. Chapter 57 Announcements

**Yes I did it. I know there are a ton of stories out there with Katniss pregnant, but I did it anyways. It just seems to fit.**

 **Chapter Fifty Seven: Announcement**

I run out of the office grabbing the bag of my moms supplies on the way.

I'm feeling overwhelmed, surprised, upset, happy, everything all at once. I don't realize it when I run straight into Finnick. He pulls me back and hold only my shoulders, "Kat, what's going on? What's wrong?"

I start to feel nervous. How will Finnick take the news? I take his hand and walk with him knowing I can't tell him in the middle of town. "Where are we going?" he asks. I don't say anything. I can't say anything. I'm too nervous. What if he hates this baby? It's not a good time for a baby. But amidst all the worries, I'm happy about it.

"Katniss what is going on? Your scaring me." he says concerned.

We get to my destination, my old house in the seam. I bring Finnick inside and sit him at the table, but I find I can't sit. I start pacing and start talking at the same time. "I know it's not a good time. And I know we didn't plan for this to happen. And I know it's really soon. And I know we've only been married for two days..."

Finnick stops me, "Katniss what is it?"

"I'm pregnant." I blurt out.

He looks shocked, "Your pregnant? With a baby?" he asks.

I nod my head. He stands up a smile creeping over his face. He hugs me tight and twirls me in a circle. "We're going to have a baby!" he tells me excitedly.

I laugh, "Yes we are." I feel relieved that he seems to be okay with the idea because there isn't anything I can do about it. "Your okay with it?" I ask him.

"Okay with it? Are you kidding? I'm going to be a father, this is amazing!" he kisses me and I kiss him back.

I'm excited about it too, but also nervous with everything that is coming. He must sense it because he says, "Everything is going to be alright, love. This baby is going to grow up in a happy home filled with love." He puts his hand on my stomach, "This baby is never going to have to face a reaping, I promise you that."

I tell him I am six weeks and we realize that six weeks ago we were in district four, on our first public date, and it was also the first time we ever made love. We decide to wait to tell everyone for a few days. We plan to have a family dinner on Sunday and tell everyone at once.

We make our way home hand in hand, getting home the same time Prim and Annie get home from school. They are bubbling over with excitement, and for a second I think they know our news. But of course it is something else. The teachers announced there was mandatory programming tonight.

"I think it's going to be your photo shoot!" Prim says.

"It can't be, Prim. They only did the pictures yesterday," I tell her.

"Well, that's what somebody heard," she says.

I'm hoping she's wrong.

When we gather around the television at seven-thirty, I discover that Prim is right. Sure enough, there's Caesar Flickerman, speaking before a standing-room-only crowd in front of the Training Center, talking to an appreciative crowd about my upcoming nuptials. He introduces Cinna, who became an overnight star with his costumes for me in the Games, and after a minute of good-natured chitchat, we're directed to turn our attention to a giant screen.

I see now how they could photograph me yesterday and present the special tonight. Initially, Cinna designed two dozen wedding gowns. Since then, there's been the process of narrowing down the designs, creating the dresses, and choosing the accessories. Apparently, in the Capitol, there were opportunities to vote for your favorites at each stage. This is all culminating with shots of me in the final six dresses, which I'm sure took no time at all to insert in the show. Each shot is met with a huge reaction from the crowd. People screaming and cheering for their favorites, booing the ones they don't like. Having voted, and probably bet on the winner, people are very invested in my wedding gown. It's bizarre to watch when I think how I never even bothered to try one on before the cameras arrived. Caesar announces that interested parties must cast their final vote by noon on the following day."Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" he hollers to the crowd. I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

"What will they do?" asks Annie. "It isn't for months yet."

We turn to our mother, whose expression is solemn and distant, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the reading of the card."

The anthem plays, and my throat tightens with revulsion as President Snow takes the stage. Finnick squeezes my hand. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box.

The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion. All of the usual nonsense.

These words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several districts are rebelling right now.

President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbors than have your name drawn from the reaping ball.

"On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won... .

"I had a friend who went that year," says my mother quietly. "Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweetshop. They gave me her songbird after. A canary."

Prim and I exchange a look. It's the first we've ever heard of Maysilee Donner. Maybe because my mother knew we would want to know how she died.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

My mother gives a faint shriek and Prim buries her face in her hands hugging a crying Annie to her. Finnick falls to his knees. But I feel more like the people I see in the crowd on television. Slightly baffled. What does it mean? Existing pool of victors?

Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female ...

I am going back into the arena.


	58. Chapter 58 Alcohol

**Sorry for not updating recently. I have not forgotten about this story I promise you that! I have had no computer to work on and trying to type on my phone just got aggravating. But I am back and ready to go!**

 **Chapter Fifty Eight: Alcohol**

My body reacts before my mind does and I'm running out the door, across the lawns of the Victor's Village, into the dark beyond. Moisture from the sodden ground soaks my socks and I'm aware of the sharp bite of the wind, but I don't stop. Where? Where to go? The woods, of course. I'm at the fence before the hum makes me remember how very trapped I am. I back away, panting, turn on my heel, and take off again.

The next thing I know I'm on my hands and knees in the cellar of one of the empty houses in the Victor's Village. Faint shafts of moonlight come in through the window wells above my head. I'm cold and wet and winded, but my escape attempt has done nothing to subdue the hysteria rising up inside me. It will drown me unless it's released. I ball up the front of my shirt, stuff it into my mouth, and begin to scream. How long this continues, I don't know. But when I stop, my voice is almost gone.

I curl up on my side and stare at the patches of moonlight on the cement floor. Back in the arena. Back in the place of nightmares. That's where I am going. And it's not just me, I'm bringing my unborn child into the arena with me. I'm never going to meet this child that Finnick and I created in love. Instead, he or she is going to be killed right along with me, in hate. This makes me sob harder, and I grieve for the loss of the child I will never know.

In the distance, someone is calling my name. But at the moment, I excuse myself from thinking about even those I love most. I think only of me and this child. And what lies ahead. Eventually my muscles relax,and my heart rate slows. I see the wooden box in the little boy's hands, President Snow drawing out the yellowed envelope. Is it possible that this was really the Quarter Quell written down seventy-five years ago? It seems unlikely. It's just too perfect an answer for the troubles that face the Capitol today. Getting rid of me and subduing the districts all in one neat little package.

 _Getting rid of me- This is my fault._ And that's a thought that I can't shake from my mind. It's too perfect and I know it's true.

I have to admit I didn't see it coming. I saw a multitude of other things. Being publicly humiliated, tortured. Marriage to Finnick with our children forced into the arena. But never that I myself would have to be a player in the Games again. Why? Because there's no precedent for it. Victors are out of the reaping for life. That's the deal if you win. Until now.

I'm glad I won only last year. Otherwise I'd know all the other victors, not just because I see them on television but because they're guests at every Games. Even if they're not mentoring like Haymitch always has to, most return to the Capitol each year for the event. I think a lot of them are friends. Whereas the only friends I'll have to worry about killing will be either Finnick, Peeta or Haymitch. _Finnick, Peeta or Haymitch!_

I sit straight up, throwing off the sheeting. What just went through my mind? There's no situation in which I would ever kill Finnick or Peeta or Haymitch. And I won't. Finnick might not go, there are a few other male victors in district four. I hope he is not picked. _He can't be pick! He won't be picked my luck isn't that bad._ I take a deep breath to let that thought relax me. But one of either Haymitch or Peeta will be in the arena with me, and that's a fact. They may have even decided between them who it will be.

Whoever is picked first, the other will have the option of volunteering to take his place. I already know what will happen. Peeta will ask Haymitch to let him go into the arena with me no matter what. For my sake. To protect me.

I stumble around the cellar, looking for an exit. How did I even get into this place? I feel my way up the steps to the kitchen and see the glass window in the door has been shattered. Must be why my hand seems to be bleeding. I hurry back into the night and head straight to Haymitch's house. He's sitting alone at the kitchen table, a half-emptied bottle of white liquor in one fist, his knife in the other. Drunk as a skunk.

"Ah, there she is. All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me ... what?" he says.

I don't answer. The window's wide open and the wind cuts through me just as if I were outside.

"I'll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can you say?" He mimics my voice. '"Take his place, Haymitch, because all things being equal, I'd rather Peeta had a crack at the rest of his life than you?

I bite my lip because once he's said it, I'm afraid that's what I do want. For Peeta to live, even if it means Haymitch's death. No, I don't. He's dreadful, of course, but Haymitch is my family now. What did I come for? I think. What could I possibly want here?

"I came for a drink," I say. For a moment I think about the unborn child inside of me but I push the thought aside. _It's too late to save this child._

Haymitch bursts out laughing and slams the bottle on the table before me. I run my sleeve across the top and take a couple gulps before I come up choking. It takes a few minutes to compose myself, and even then my eyes and nose are still streaming. But inside me, the liquor feels like fire and I like it.

"Maybe it should be you," I say matter-of-factly as I pull up a chair. "You hate life, anyway."

"Very true," says Haymitch. "And since last time I tried to keep you alive... seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time."

"That's another good point," I say, wiping my nose and tipping up the bottle again.

"Peeta's argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you, his sweet little sister," says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta's not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.

"You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him to even know him," Haymitch says.

"Yeah, yeah," I say brusquely. "No question, he's the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Haymitch sighs. "Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name's drawn at the reaping, it won't matter. He'll just volunteer to take my place."

We sit for a while in silence. "It'd be bad for you in the arena, wouldn't it? Knowing all the others?" I ask.

"Oh, I think we can count on it being unbearable wherever I am." He nods at the bottle.

"Can I have that back now?"

"No," I say, wrapping my arms around it. Haymitch pulls another bottle out from under the table and gives the top a twist. But I realize I am not just here for a drink. There's something else I want from Haymitch. "Okay, I figured out what I'm asking," I say. "If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive."

Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain.

"Like you said, it's going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it's his turn to be saved. We both owe him that." My voice takes on a pleading tone."Besides, the Capitol hates me so much, I'm as good as dead now. He still might have a chance. Please, Haymitch. Say you'll help me."

He frowns at his bottle, weighing my words. "All right," he says finally.

The door bursts open, "Haymitch, have.." Finnick comes in then seems me and relaxes. Suddenly I feel bad for taking off, "Oh Katniss." Finnick comes to me and takes me in his arms, "Are you okay?" he asks me.

I nod into his chest.

He pulls back and looks at me oddly, "Are you drinking?"

Haymitch chuckles, and in answer I put the bottle I'm holding to my lips again. "I'm sorry, I took off. I.. I just needed to escape."

"So you came to drink with Haymitch?" he asks and there is a small smile playing on his lips like he is amused.

"Yup." And I give Haymitch a look that says Finnick is not to know about our deal, because I don't think he would like it very much.

Haymitch seems to understand and nods his head.

Finnick looks at us suspiciously, taking the bottle from my hand he says, "This isn't over, Kat." And to my surprise he turns the bottle up, gulping down half of what was left before handing it back to me.

 _What isn't over?_ I think. Haymitch and Finnick share a look and I know we all have secrets we are keeping from each other.

"We should get back home," Finnick turns to me, "The kids, and your mom are worried about you."

I nod, feeling guilty now. I stagger when I stand up, "Thank you Haymitch." I slur.

Haymitch nods in acknowledgement.

Finnick is surprisingly steady on his feet, and he wraps his arm around me keep me steady.

"I should go see Peeta," I slur, my head spinning.

"Tomorrow." Finnick says, and I almost fall. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me to the house. When we get to the porch he puts me down only to pick me up again when my knees weaken and I drop the bottle to the floor, shattering it. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

When I wake up, I barely get to the toilet before the white liquor makes its reappearance. It burns just as much coming up as it did going down, and tastes twice as bad. I'm trembling and sweaty when I finish vomiting, but at least most of the stuff is out of my system. Enough made it into my bloodstream, though, to result in a pounding headache, parched mouth, and boiling stomach.

I turn on the shower and stand under the warm rain for a minute before I realize I'm still in my underclothes. Finnick must have just stripped off my filthy outer ones and tucked me in bed. I throw the wet undergarments into the sink and pour shampoo on my head. My hands sting, and that's when I notice the stitches, small and even, across one palm and up the side of the other hand. Vaguely I remember breaking that glass window last night. I scrub myself from head to toe, only stopping to throw up again right in the shower. It's mostly just bile and goes down the drain with the sweet-smelling bubbles.

Finally clean, I pull on my robe and head back to bed. When I open the door to my bedroom, Finnick is awake and sitting there with his head in his hands.

"Finnick," I barely whisper and then his is there taking me in his arms pulling me to him. It's not long before I fall asleep again.

I can tell by the light it's late afternoon when I come round again. Finnick is out of bed already. There's a glass of water on my bedside table and I gulp it down thirstily. My stomach and head still feel rocky, but much better than they did earlier. I rise, dress, and braid back my hair. Before I go down, I pause at the top of the stairs, feeling slightly embarrassed about the way I've handled the news of the Quarter Quell.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs I hear talking from the kitchen.

"I'm glad your here Finnick, I think you might be the only one who could have gotten through to her. Are you the only male victor in your district?" My mother says.

"No, there are three others." I can tell the thought distresses him by his tone. "I'm going to go back in the arena, Mrs. Everdeen. I'm not going to let anything happen to her."

I can hear my mother cry and chairs squeak. When I walk around the corner I see Finnick hugging my mother. Seeing me my mother tries to compose herself.

My mother and Prim embrace me again, but they're not overly emotional. I know they're holding things in to make it easier on me. Looking at Prim's face, it's hard to imagine she's the same frail little girl I left behind on reaping day nine months ago. The combination of that ordeal and all that has followed—the cruelty in the district, the parade of sick and wounded that she often treats by herself now if my mother's hands are too full —these things have aged her years. She's grown quite a bit, too; we're practically the same height now, but that isn't what makes her seem so much older.

My mother ladles out a mug of broth for me, and I ask for a second mug to take to Haymitch. Finnick comes with me when I walk across the lawn to his house. He's only just waking up and accepts the mug without comment. We sit there, almost peacefully, sipping our broth and watching the sun set through his living room window. I hear someone walking around upstairs and I assume it's Hazelle, but a few minutes later Peeta comes down and tosses a cardboard box of empty liquor bottles on the table with finality. "There, it's done," he says.

It's taking all of Haymitch's resources to focus his eyes on the bottles, so I speak up.

"What's done?"

"I've poured all the liquor down the drain," says Peeta.

This seems to jolt Haymitch out of his stupor, and he paws through the box in disbelief. "You what?"

"I tossed the lot," says Peeta.

"He'll just buy more," I say.

"No, he won't," says Peeta. "I tracked down Ripper this morning and told her I'd turn her in the second she sold to either of you. I paid her off, too, just for good measure, but I don't think she's eager to be back in the Peacekeepers' custody."

Finnick laughs. He laughs so hard he's holding his stomach trying to stay in his chair.

Haymitch takes a swipe with his knife but Peeta deflects it so easily it's pathetic. Anger rises up in me. "What business is it of yours what he does?"

"It's completely my business. However it falls out, two of us are going to be in the arena again with the other as mentor. We can't afford any drunkards on this team. Especially not you, Katniss," says Peeta to me, "Hopefully you won't be draw Finnick."

"What?" I sputter indignantly. It would be more convincing if I weren't still so hungover. "Last night's the only time I've ever even been drunk."

"Yeah, and look at the shape you're in," says Peeta.

Even Finnick has stopped laughing now, Peeta is so serious.

I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. "Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor."

"Then I'll turn you both in. Let you sober up in the stocks," says Peeta.

"What's the point to this?" asks Haymitch.

"The point is that two of us are coming home from the Capitol. One mentor and one victor," says Peeta. "Effie's sending me recordings of all the living victors. We're going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We're going to put on weight and get strong. We're going to start acting like Careers. And one of us is going to be victor again whether you two like it or not!" He sweeps out of the room, slamming the front door.

Haymitch and I wince at the bang.

"I don't like self-righteous people," I say.

"What's to like?" says Haymitch, who begins sucking the dregs out of the empty bottles.

"You and me. That's who he plans on coming home," I say.

"Well, then the joke's on him," says Haymitch.

"What?" Finnick says to us, "What are you talking about?"

"Peeta wants to be the one to go in the arena with me, because he wants to protect me. But we are planning on him being safe." I fill him in.

"Katniss, you are going home from those games." Finnick tells me.

"Finnick, the chances of the president letting me come out again are slim to none.:"

"No Katniss. You are going to be safe, do you understand?"

"You can't know that Finnick."

"Yes I do! Because I'm going to make sure of it."

And then I realize what he is going to do, "Oh no, no you can't." I plead with him.

"Katniss, it isn't an option for me. I can't watch you in that arena again. You don't know how much of a mess I was. Ask Haymitch. I will be in there, with you, protecting you. Doing whatever I can.." he trails off.

"No! No, I won't let you. You need to be here. Think of Annie, think of Prim." I tell him.

"Exactly, Kat, think about Prim, and your mother, and Annie," he yells, then in a softer voice, "think about the baby. They are all going to need you."

In the back of my head I hear Haymitch gasp, but I can't think about that now. I open my mouth to speak but Finnick interrupts, "We aren't going to argue about this. I'm going in the arena with you and there is nothing you can do about it."

The harshness of his words take me back, and don't argue with him. At least not right now, but what I do know, is that if I can't stop him, I'm going to be protecting him too. I'm going to protect them both, my fiance, and my brother. And I know, there is no way I can make it out of the games, because I won't be able to save them both but I'm going to die trying.


	59. Chapter 59 Rules

**Chapter Fifty Nine: Rules**

The next evening we have what Haymitch is calling a strategy meeting. We aren't sure exactly what he is talking about, what is there to strategize exactly. All of us are sitting in Haymitch's living room when he comes down the stairs.

Looking at all of us, he sighs, "After tonight, no more arguing."

We look at each other confused, "What do you mean?" Peeta asks him.

"Tonight we are going to decide our plan. What is our best approach? Who is best to go into the arena? Then after that, no more arguing. Understand?"

"I'm going into the arena, no plan is going to change that." Peeta says.

I start to speak up but Haymitch stops me, "Now you see, boy you want to go in so you can protect Katniss, right?" Peeta nods, "Same with you?" he asks Finnick, and Finnick nods.

"Sweetheart, what you want is for neither one of them to go in right?"

I nod, that is exactly what I want.

"Well I have one thing to say in favor of that," Haymitch says surprising me. Finnick and Peeta instantly look angry, but Haymitch holds them off, "Now just wait a minute, hear me out."

They agree to hear him out. "If both of you are in the arena with Katniss, she is going to be fighting to defend and protect both of you. She is going to put herself in danger trying to keep either of you safe." I nod, agreeing, "But if you don't go in. Peeta if you let me go with her, and Finnick if you don't get called, she will be fighting harder to protect herself. If both of you aren't in the arena she will be more eager to come home to you both than to leave you dead in the arena."

I'm surprised by Haymitch's logic, and I can see Peeta look a little skeptical wavering, but Finnick is shaking his head.

"Finnick, if one of the other victors in your district is a mentor, which would be easy to arrange, then that leaves you free to sponsor her. You can send her food, medicine, a bow and arrow. Peeta, you will be our mentor and you wouldn't be able to sponsor her but you are very good with people, you would be good at convincing others to sponsor her."

I'm very impressed that Haymitch has thought this through so much and that he is on my side. I can tell the thought of Finnick being able to sponsor me appeals to him but only for a moment.

"Haymitch, you can't expect me to sit and watch her in the arena again. You remember last time?" Haymitch's eyes darken and it makes me wonder what happened, "And this time it would be much, much worse. I can't watch my wife and unborn child fight to stay alive and be able to do nothing. I am volunteering if I have to."

And the affect on Peeta hearing his words is instantaneous; any wavering he had is gone now.

"You're pregnant?" Peeta asks me, with big eyes.

"Yes," I nod, "But that doesn't change anything." I tell him, pleading with my eyes.

"Yes it does, Kat, it changes everything."

I sigh, "Before we go any further," I tell them all, glaring at Finnick, "Nobody else is to know about this child. We don't need to cause them any more heart ache than they already are. There is nothing they can do…"

They seem to understand what I am trying to say. Why make it harder on our family and friends if I die.

"You might be showing by then." Finnick says.

I shake my head, "I might not be, and if I am it won't be much, it can be hidden." Finnick and I look into each others eyes both of us filled with emotion we can't even begin to express. Finnick squeezes my hand.

Peeta is usally the calm, reasonable one in the group so I am completely taken aback when a vase of dead flowers that was once sitting on the table breaks against the wall across the room, water splashing everywhere, "I hate them. How can they do this? What right do they have? Why, why would they do this?" he storms standing up, his chair falls to the ground and he paces the length of the room angrily.

"It's because of me." I say quietly, "I'm sorry." I admit trying to keep the tears from sliding down my face. Because it is because of me. It's because of me that they could all be falling to their deaths.

Three pairs of eyes turn to me instantly. Before they can say anything I hold up my hand, "Don't try to say I'm wrong. President Snow wants me dead, that's why he is doing this. We knew he was going to come after me some time and this is how he intends to do it. If I had killed myself with those berries, Peeta would have been the only victor. No trouble would have been started. You would all be safe."

Finnick takes me into his arms, and holds me tight against his chest. "You are wrong." He tells me. I shake my head against his chest.

"No, she is right." Haymitch says, and even though I agree with him I flinch at his words. "It is because of you. You are giving the people of Panem an opportunity, an opportunity they would have never had otherwise. If you had killed yourself in the arena it wouldn't have stopped this. Killing yourself would have been an act of rebellion in itself."

"If you had killed yourself it wouldn't have save anyone. It would have caused uprisings right there on the spot. And I wouldn't have been safe either. I would have lashed out and raised hell if you died." Peeta says.

I turn to look at him, and he gives me a soft smile.

"We need to remember who the real enemy is." Finnick says.

I nod. Finnick kisses me and the tingling on my lips washes the rest of my tears away.

"Which brings me to my next point: the real enemy." Haymitch says.

Peeta nods, "We started this rebellion, let's finish it."

I smile at the thought, "But how?"

"For starters, stop playing by their rules." Haymitch says.

We talk on into the night about how the best way to do that is. We are going to have to be very careful how we play it to avoid bringing the wrath of the Capitol down on our families. We aren't giving up, we are fighting back. And that gives me the strength to keep going. I'm determined to make the Capitol pay for everything they have done. My only reservation is keeping our families safe.


	60. Chapter 60 Careers

**Chapter Sixty: Careers**

We agree to act like Careers, because this is the best way to get us all ready. No matter what happens at least two of us will be going into the arena, most likely three because I don't think I can convince Finnick not to. We can cause all kinds of trouble but we can't stop them from putting us in the arena and we need to be prepared.

Every night we watch the old recaps of the Games that the remaining victors won. I realize we never met any of them on the Victory Tour, which seems odd in retrospect.

When I bring it up, Haymitch says the last thing President Snow would've wanted was to show Peeta and me—especially me — bonding with other victors in potentially rebellious districts. Victors have a special status, and if they appeared to be supporting my defiance of the Capitol, it would've been dangerous politically.

Adjusting for age, I realize some of our opponents may be elderly, which is both sad and reassuring. Peeta takes copious notes, Haymitch and Finnick volunteer information about the victors' personalities, and slowly we begin to know our competition.

Every morning we do exercises to strengthen our bodies. We run and lift things and stretch our muscles. Every afternoon we work on combat skills, throwing knives, fighting hand to hand; I even teach them to climb trees.

Officially, tributes aren't supposed to train, but no one tries to stop us. Not that we would let them anyways. Even in regular years, the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 show up able to wield spears and swords. This is nothing by comparison.

After all the years of abuse, Haymitch's body resists improvement. He's still remarkably strong, but the shortest run winds him. And you'd think a guy who sleeps every night with a knife might actually be able to hit the side of a house with one, but his hands shake so badly it takes weeks for him to achieve even that.

Peeta and Finnick and I excel under the new regimen, though. My mother puts us on a special diet to gain weight. Prim treats our sore muscles. Madge sneaks us her father's Capitol newspapers. Predictions on who will be victor of the victors show us among the favorites.

Even Gale steps into the picture on Sundays, although he's got no love for Haymithch or Finnick, and teaches us all he knows about snares. It's weird for me, being in conversations with both Finnick and Gale, but they seem to have set aside whatever issues they have about me.

Between the training, Finnick and I try to enjoy our time together as much as possible. We take walks through town. Sometimes just the two of us, sometimes with Prim and Annie, and sometimes even with Peeta and Haymitch. I find myself wishing I could spend the rest of my life with Finnick in peace but I know I can't and quickly banish the thoughts from my mind before I let them overtake me. I've been doing pretty well at keeping those thoughts at bay, but the closer we get the harder it is. Twice I've broken down on Finnick, but he is always there to comfort me. Part of me knows the hormones from the pregnancy aren't making things any easier.

When we are in town people no longer hide from us. In fact the announcement of the Quell has made more people try to seek us out. They tell us that they wish we didn't have to go through that again, that it's not fair, that they are rooting for us, that their shouldn't even be a hunger games. Some of them are trying not to cry when they see us and some of them are openly angry. Nothing openly treasonous, but borderline.

More people are being whipped and put in the stocks. For things that we've done for so long, we've forgotten they are illegal. My mother has had many more patients to take care of lately. Which is good for her, to keep her busy but bad for everyone else. Thread is coming down hard on the citizens of District 12.

Every time I see Thread when we are in town he watches me, waiting for me to do anything so he can arrest me. So far I have been very careful not to.

The attitude of the people of 12 is changing. The same tension we experienced at some of the districts on the victory tour is now here. And it makes me wonder how the announcement affected the districts already in rebellion or on the verge.

The thought makes me smile, sending the victors back into the arena might not be having the affect the Capitol wants it too.

One night when we are watching one of the other victor's hunger games at Haymitch's house, someone knocks on the door. All four of us tense not knowing who to expect. Annie or Prim would just call if they needed something.

Haymitch goes to the door grunting, I'm surprised to see Gale.

"Gale?" I say.

"I want to talk to all of you." He says in reply.

"What about?" Haymitch asks suspiciously.

"An uprising." Gale says.

"Is it possible?" I ask Haymitch excitedly and nervous.

"There has been a lot of talk in the mines, I think people are ready." Gale says.

"You can feel the tension here now, and see it in people's eyes in town." Finnick adds.

"That may be so, but we don't have the numbers here. Esspecially with the number of new peacekeepers showing up. I still don't think we are ready." Haymitch shakes his head.

"I don't think that people care if we're ready or not. They want action." Gale says.

By the end of the night we've made a plan. Not to start an uprising, but to defend against one. Haymitch is afraid if we start an uprsing the peacekeepers would win and life in district 12 would only get worse, if that is possible. If the peacekeepers make any attacks though the people District 12 will be ready to push back. The plans make me feel better about leaving our family behind after the reaping.

We start spreading the plan around when we talk to people. People look like they want to do more, like they want to act now, but they agree to the plan. I hope planning something will be enough. Gale talks to the miners.

Regardless, Finnick and I have started stocking up on canned goods and food, just in case. We've also built coverings for the windows, so that our family will have some protection if they need it. I wish I could get my bow from the woods, but the electrified fence keeps me out. It's probably for the best, I can't imagine what Thread would do if he caught me walking back with a bow and arrows.

The people in district 12 won't have many weapons. But they will have knives, coal to burn, and since we live in the coal mining district we have the bombs they use to mine deeper. Gale's job is to talk to some of the miners in charge of those bombs and see if it's possible if they can secure some for defense if need be.

Other than that we are just waiting for the reaping.

The night before Finnick has to leave to go back to district 4 we spend some time alone in our bedroom. We are laying down on the bed and Finnick is talking to the baby. He puts his hands on either side of my stomach and I know he is feeling the slight swelling where the baby is. It's hardly noticeable unless you were specifically looking for it. It makes me sad; Finnick would have made a great father.

"Finnick, I…" the words get caught in my throat.

He moves so he is facing me on the bed, "I know, love. Me too."

Putting his hands on either side of my face he kisses me tenderly at first, but the kiss grows and intensifies until it feels like my whole body is on fire, feverishly. Finnick pulls me on top of him so my legs are on either side of his. And it's not enough. I need him, I need to feel his skin on mine. He seems to understand, needing the same thing. We desperately make love, clinging to each other.


	61. Chapter 61

**I have no idea if coal would really do this, but this is way in the future so who knows what they would be able to do then. So just go with it please, lol.**

 **Chapter Sixty One: Reaping**

Finnick says his goodbyes to make his way to district four for the reaping. Its only two days we will be apart until we he rejoins me in the capitol but it still makes me anxious.

Then before I know it the day of the reaping is upon us.

It's hot and sultry. The population of District 12 waits, sweating and silent, in the square with machine guns trained on them. I stand alone in a small roped-off area with Peeta and Haymitch in a similar pen to the right of me.

I didn't dress up for the reaping this time. I wear my hunting pants and a loose sleeveless shirt that is something I wouldn't usually wear. But it makes it so the majority of my scars from being whipped can be seen. There is no way from them to hide them from the public. They have to show the reapings, and I want everyone to see the scars, as a message.

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls' reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. When I come up the stage I can see the anger in her eyes. Then she goes to the boy's ball and catches Haymitch's name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

The people of District 12 don't clap, instead just like last year they all lift their three middle fingers in the air in a silent good bye message. To my horror, the peacekeepers start pushing into the crowd, but they don't budge. They hold their fingers up. It's almost like it was planned, and I realize that it must have been planned. In the corner of my eye I see someone light a match against a piece of coal they hold it from the bottom as the top part lights on fire. _What are they going to do with that?_ I think but I quickly see him run to a peacekeeper attacking a woman and he puts it down the back of his uniform. The peacekeeper falls to the ground in agony and quickly his whole uniform is on fire.

I look around the rest of the square and see severl peacekeepers burning on the ground. The machine guns start shooting randomly into the crowd, and another of the peacekeepers pushes us towards the justice building. I strain to look around him to find mom, Prim, and Annie. Finally I spot them on the path back to Victor's Village, and am happy to see Thomas, Rye, and Nate ushering them along. Hazelle and the kids come up behind them, with Gale and I relax a little more. A peacekeeper comes running over to them, and grabs Gales arm from behind and I hear someone near me scream. But Gale is faster than him and has his own piece of coal lit and in his uniform. The peacekeeper falls to the ground in flames.

We are immediately marched into the Justice Building to find Head Peacekeeper Thread waiting for us. "New procedure," he says with a smile. We're ushered out the back door, into a car, and taken to the train station. There are no cameras on the platform, no crowd to send us on our way. Haymitch and Effie appear, escorted by guards. Peacekeepers hurry us all onto the train and slam the door. The wheels begin to turn.

And I'm left staring out the window, watching District 12 disappear, with all my goodbyes hanging on my lips. I remain at the window long after the woods have swallowed up the last glimpse of my home. How many people are hurt? How many dead? Is our family really okay? I may never know because this time I don't have even the slightest hope of return. Before my first Games, I promised Prim I would do everything I could to win, and now I've sworn to myself to do all I can to keep Finnick and Peeta alive. I will never reverse this journey again.

I'd actually figured out what I wanted my last words to my loved ones to be. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Capitol has stolen that as well.

"We'll write letters, Katniss," says Peeta from behind me. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if ... they need to be delivered."

I nod and go straight to my room. I sit on the bed, knowing I will never write those letters. They will be like the speech I tried to write to honor Rue and Thresh in District 11. Things seemed clear in my head and even when I talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses. They cannot be delivered with a wooden box containing my cold, stiff body.

Too heartsick to cry, all I want is to curl up on the bed and sleep until we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But I have a mission. No, it's more than a mission. It's my dying wish. Keep Finnick and Peeta alive. And as unlikely as it seems that I can achieve it in the face of the Capitol's anger, it's important that I be at the top of my game. This won't happen if I'm mourning for everyone I love back home. Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. It's hard, esspcially thinking of the trouble that is going on. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return. The hardest one is of the baby growing inside me. The baby that symbolizes the love between me and Finnick.

By the time Effie knocks on my door to call me to dinner, I'm empty. But the lightness isn't entirely unwelcome.

The meal's subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of pureed vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with and Effie make occasional attempts at conversation that quickly die out.

"I love your new hair, Effie," Peeta says.

"Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss's pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," says Effie.

Evidently, Effie doesn't know that my mockingjay pin is now a symbol used by the rebels. At least in District 8. In the Capitol, the mockingjay is still a fun reminder of an especiallyexciting Hunger Games.

"I think that's a great idea," says Peeta. "How about it, Haymitch?"

"Yeah, whatever," says Haymitch. He's not drinking but I can tell he'd like to be. Effie had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making, but he's in a miserable state. If he were the tribute, he would have owed Peeta nothing and could be as drunk as he liked. Now it's going to take all he's got to keep Peeta alive in an arena full of his old friends, and he'll probably fail.

"Maybe we could get you a wig, too," I say in an attempt at lightness. He just shoots me a look that says to leave him alone, and we all eat our custard in silence. I can't stop myself from asking, "Do you think they are okay?"

Haymitch looks me in the eye and I wait for his response knowing I can expect an honest answer, "There's no way to be sure sweetheart, but they're smart, and prepared."

I nod, and accept that this is the best I'm going to get.

"Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" says Effie, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin.

Peeta goes off to retrieve his notebook on the remaining living victors, and we gather in the compartment with the television to see who our competition will be in the arena. We are all in place as the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begins.

In the history of the Games, there have been seventy-five victors. Fifty-nine are still alive. I recognize many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from our recent viewing of the victors' tapes. Some are so old or wasted by illness, drugs, or drink that I can't place them. As one would expect, the pools of Career tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are the largest. But every district has managed to scrape up at least one female and one male victor.

The reapings go by quickly. Peeta studiously puts stars by the names of the chosen tributes in his notebook. Haymitch watches, his face devoid of emotion, as friends of his step up to take the stage. Effie makes hushed, distressed comments like "Oh, not Cecelia" or "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight," and sighs frequently.

For my part, I try to make some mental record of the other tributes, but like last year, only a few really stick in my head. There's the classically beautiful brother and sister from District 1 who were victors in consecutive years when I was little. So we won't be the only brother and sister in the arena together. Brutus, a volunteer from District 2, who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back in the arena. Finnick's name gets picked for District 4, and I'm waiting and hoping someone will volunteer but nobody does. A hysterical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage and I instantly know this must be Mags. I instantly feel for Finnick. Then there's Johanna Mason, the only living female victor from 7, who won a few years back by pretending she was a weakling. The woman from 8 who Effie calls Cecelia, who looks about thirty, has to detach herself from the three kids who run up to cling to her. Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in. I'm called. Then Haymitch. And Peeta volunteers. It's immediately cut off after that, not showing any of the uprising.

One of the announcers actually gets teary because it seems the odds will never be in my favor. Going into the arena with my brother and fiance. If only she knew. Then she pulls herself together to say she bets that "these will be the best Games ever!"

I wonder if Finnick is watching the recap right now, and what he must be thinking.

Haymitch leaves the compartment without a word, and Effie, after making a few unconnected comments about this tribute or that, bids us good night. I just sit there watching Peeta rip out the pages of the victors who were not picked.

Eventually I fall asleep, but not without nightmares, and I quickly decide I can't sleep. I go out to the dining car and order warm milk. Peeta is still up watching videos of the games. I sit next to him and put my head on his shoulder, and he hugs me. I sit back up when the capitol attendent brings in the milk.

"I brought an extra cup," he says.

"Thanks," I say.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room.

"What's with him?" I say.

"I think he feels bad for us," says Peeta.

"Right," I say, pouring the milk.

"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," says Peeta. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions."

"I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," I say flatly. Really, if there's one thing I don't have time for, it's worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"

"Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," says Peeta.

"Who's next?" I ask.

"You pick," says Peeta, holding out the box.

The tapes are marked with the year of the Games and the name of the victor. I dig around and suddenly find one in my hand that we have not watched. The year of the Games is fifty. That would make it the second Quarter Quell. And the name of the victor is Haymitch Abernathy.

"We never watched this one," I say.

Peeta shakes his head. "No. I knew Haymitch didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."

"Is the person who won in twenty-five in here?" I ask.

"I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." Peeta weighs Haymitch's tape in his hand. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"

"It's the only Quell we have. We might pick up something valuable about how they work," I say. But I feel weird. It seems like some major invasion of Haymitch's privacy. I don't know why it should, since the whole thing was public. But it does. I have to admit I'm also extremely curious. "We don't have to tell Haymitch we saw it."

"Okay," Peeta agrees

 **(If you want to read haymitches games please refer to the book its too much to write. I thought about leaving it out but at the same time its an important part too.)**

Finally Peeta says, "That force field at the bottom of the cliff, it was like the one on the roof of the Training Center. The one that throws you back if you try to jump off and commit suicide. Haymitch found a way to turn it into a weapon."

"Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," I say. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one. Bet that's why I don't remember seeing it on television. It's almost as bad as us and the berries!"

I can't help laughing, really laughing, for the first time in months. Peeta just shakes his head like I've lost my mind—and maybe I have, a little.

"Almost, but not quite," says Haymitch from behind us. I whip around, afraid he's going to be angry over us watching his tape, but he just smirks and takes a swig from a bottle of wine. So much for sobriety. I guess I should be upset he's drinking again, but I'm preoccupied with another feeling.

I've spent all these weeks getting to know who my competitors are, without even thinking about who my teammates are. Now a new kind of confidence is lighting up inside of me, because I think I finally know who Haymitch is. And I'm beginning to know who I am. And surely, two people who have caused the Capitol so much trouble can make this work.


	62. Chapter 62 Opening Ceremonies

**Pretty much just like the book, but a lot of interesting things are about to happen.**

 **Chapter Sixty Two: Opening Ceremonies**

Having been through prep with Flavius, Venia, and Octavia numerous times, it should just be an old routine to survive. But I haven't anticipated the emotional ordeal that awaits me. At some point during the prep, each of them bursts into tears at least twice, and Octavia pretty much keeps up a running whimper throughout the morning. It turns out they really have become attached to me, and the idea of my returning to the arena has undone them. Combine that with the fact that by losing me they'll be losing their ticket to all kinds of big social events, particularly my wedding, and the whole thing becomes unbearable. The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them. Since I'm the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying.

It's interesting, though, when I think of what Peeta said about the attendant on the train being unhappy about the victors having to fight again. About people in the Capitol not liking it. I still think all of that will be forgotten once the gong sounds, but it's something of a revelation that those in the Capitol feel anything at all about us. They certainly don't have a problem watching children murdered every year. But maybe they know too much about the victors, especially the ones who've been celebrities for ages, to forget we're human beings. It's more like watching your own friends die. More like the Games are for those of us in the districts.

Then I think about the secret meeting I caught Haymitch having last year. Suddenly, I'm excited because they certainly will be mad about the victors having to go back in the arena. I bet they are willing to do something about it too.

By the time Cinna shows up, I am irritable and exhausted from comforting the prep team, especially because their constant tears are reminding me of the ones undoubtedly being shed at home. Standing there in my thin robe with my stinging skin and heart, I know I can't bear even one more look of regret. So the moment he walks in the door I snap, "I swear if you cry, I'll kill you here and now."

Cinna just smiles. "Had a damp morning?"

"You could wring me out," I reply.

Cinna puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me into lunch. "Don't worry. I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself."

"I can't go through that again," I warn him.

"I know. I'll talk to them," says Cinna.

"So, what are we wearing for the opening ceremonies?" I finally ask as I scrape the second pot clean. "Headlamps or fire?" I know the chariot ride will require Peeta and me to be dressed in something coal related.

"Something along that line," he says.

The costume looks deceptively simple at first, just a fitted black jumpsuit that covers me from the neck down. He places a half crown like the one I recieved as victor on my head, but it's made of a heavy black metal, not gold. Then he adjusts the light in the room to mimic twilight and presses a butoon just inside the fabric on my wrist. I look down, fascinated, as my ensaemble slowly comes to life, first with a soft golden light but gradually transforming to the orange red of burning coal. I look as if I have been coated in glowing embers. no that I am a glowing ember straight from our fireplace.

"How did you do this?" I say in wonder.

"Portia and I spent a lot of hours watching fires," says Cinna. "Now look at yourself."

He turns me toward a mirror so that I can take in the entire effect. I do not see a girl, or even a woman, but some unearthly being who looks like she might make her home in the volcano that destroyed so many in Haymitch's Quell. The black crown, which now appears red-hot, casts strange shadows on my dramatically made-up face. Katniss, the girl on fire, has left behind her flickering flames and bejeweled gowns and soft candlelight frocks. She is as deadly as fire itself.

"I think ... this is just what I needed to face the others," I say.

"Yes, I think your days of pink lipstick and ribbons are behind you," says Cinna. He touches the button on my wrist again, extinguishing my light. "Let's not run down your power pack."

Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariots, the scene is very social. The victors, both this year's tributes and their mentors, are standing around in small groups, talking. Of course, they all know one another and I don't know anyone, and I'm not really the sort of person to go around introducing myself. So I just stroke the neck of one of my horses and try not to be noticed. It doesn't work.

The crunching hits my ear before I even know he's beside me, and when I turn my head though I am happy to see Finnick Odair's sea green eyes are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

"Hello, Mrs. Odair," he says, almost as if we just met.

"Hello, Mr. Odair," I say, just as casually.

"Want a sugar cube?" he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. "They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I ... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick."

I'm reminded of Finnick's reputation in the capitol. How they've been drooling over him since he won his games and here we are in the capitol again. Then I remind myself that he was forced to do that, and that he is mine, I have the ring to prove it.

"No, thanks," I say to the sugar. "I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though."

He's draped in a golden net that's strategically knotted at his groin so that he can't technically be called naked, but he's about as close as you can get. I'm sure his stylist thinks the more of Finnick the audience sees, the better.

"You're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?" he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. And this drives me crazy, I'm itching to touch him, to taste his tongue in my mouth but I don't want to ruin the flirty banter we've got going.

"I outgrew them," I say.

"Yes you have, girl on fire," and he puts his arms around my waist. "My girl on fire," he clarifies, "Everyone in the capitol is going to be looking at you with lust in their eyes, but you Mrs. Odair, are mine."

"Well Mr. Odair, the same can be said about you." I smile, "In fact I don't think you should be allowed to dress like that outside of our bedroom."

"Jealous, Mrs. Odair?"

Just then Peeta joins us. He is dressed in an outfit identical to mine.

"Somehow it's not as appealing on you." Finnick says to Peeta and laughs.

Peeta rolls his eyes, "It's almost time to go."

Finnick kisses me and goes back to his chariot.

As we climb onto our chariot Peeta asks, "Do you think we'd have ended up like this if only one of us had won?" he asks, glancing around at the other victors. "Just another part of the freak show?"

"Sure. Especially you," I say.

"Oh. And why especially me?" he says with a smile.

"Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don't," I say with an air of superiority. "They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you'd be lost entirely."

"Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness," Peeta points out. The music is beginning and I see the wide doors opening for the first chariot, hear the roar of the crowd.

"Hold still," I say, and straighten his crown. "Have you seen your suit turned on? We're going to be fabulous again."

"Absolutely." he says. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

"I don't know." I eye the procession of chariots. "Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on." We do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that, once again, we'll be the talk of the opening ceremonies. We're almost at the door. I crane my head around, but neither Portia nor Cinna, who were with us right up to the final second last year, aren't anywhere in sight.

I look up into those blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly and remember how, just a year ago, I was prepared to kill him. Convinced he was trying to kill me. Now everything is reversed. I'm determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it's Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

"No waving this year, we're breaking rules." I say to Peeta and he nods.

"No way we are going to act like we want to be here."

I simply fix my eyes on a point far in the distance and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria. I can't help catching glimpses of us on the huge screens along the route, and we are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful. No, more. We no longer estranged brother and sister from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little the rewards of our victory, do not seek the fans' favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. We are unforgiving. And I love it. Getting to be myself at last.

Peeta and I, on the other hand, are so mesmerizing with our ever-changing coal costumes that most of the other tributes are staring at us. We seem particularly riveting to the pair from District 6, who are known morphling addicts. Both bone thin, with sagging yellowish skin. They can't tear their overlarge eyes away, even when President Snow begins to speak from his balcony, welcoming us all to the Quell. The anthem plays, and as we make our final trip around the circle, am I wrong? Or do I see the president fixated on me as well?

Peeta and I wait until the doors of the Training Center have closed behind us to relax. Cinna and Portia are there, pleased with our performance, and Haymitch is here as well, only he's not at our chariot, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us.

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement, like they did Peeta when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it.

The woman, Seeder, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years. Before either of us says a word, she embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Rue and Thresh.

Before I can stop myself, I whisper, "The families?"

"They're alive," she says back softly before letting me go.

Chaff throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. I jerk back, startled, while he and Haymitch guffaw.

Next thing I know Finnick is by my side putting himself between me and Chaff, taking my hand. I roll my eyes at him. And he was asking me if I was jealous.

That's about all the time we get before the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still linked with Finnicks's, someone else rustles up to my side. The girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.

"Damn, Finnick, get a grip. Who would have thought a girl could make Finnick Odair lose his cool," she is obviously teasing him. Johanna Mason. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes.

"Very funny Johanna." Finnick replies and it is clear they are friends. "Katniss, Johanna Mason District 7 and one of my annoying friends. Johnanna, Katniss O.. Everdeen, my fiance." he introduces us. Remembering we aren't supposed to be married yet.

"I've heard a lot about you Katniss. Actually you are the only thing I hear about when I talk to Finnick." She sounds annoyed but I can tell underneath she is happy for Finnick. "Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I'd gotten Cinna. You look fantastic."

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. "Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet." Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head.

"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back," says Johanna.

I bet you did, I think. With a few inches of my flesh.

While we wait for the elevators, Johanna unzips the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing. "That's better."

We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts. When she leaves I just know he's grinning.

When doors close behind Chaff and Seeder, leaving Peeta, Finnick and I alone, Peeta breaks out laughing.

"What?" I say, turning on him as we step out on our floor.

"It's you, Katniss. Can't you see?" he says.

"What's me?" I say.

"Why they're all acting like kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down." He tries to take on a more serious tone, unsuccessfully. "They're playing with you because you're so ... you know."

"No, I don't know," I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

"It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure," he says finally.

"I am not!" I say. "I've been practically ripping Finnick's clothes off every time there's been a camera for the last year!" I look to Finnick for back up.

"Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure, and think about how the Capitol has been projecting you" he says, clearly trying to mollify me, "as an innocent little sister."

"For me, you're perfect. But he's right they're just teasing you." Finnick tells me.

"No, they're laughing at me, and so are both of you!" I say.

"No." Peeta shakes his head, but he's still suppressing a smile.

"Well it's a good thing I'm done with those silly frilly ridiculous dresses! Now I can really be myself." I storm off to the room I already know is mine.


	63. Chapter 63 Baby

**Chapter Sixty Two: Baby**

Finnick follows me into the bedroom and as soon as I turn around to face him his lips are on mine. He kisses me intensely and I kiss him back.

He pulls away too soon, "I missed you love."

"I missed you too." The days without Finnick are much harder than days with him. Then I remember Finnick doesn't know about the uprising. I feel all the blood drain from my face.

Finnick leads me over to the bed and sits me down, "What's wrong Kat? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay, but on reaping day back in 12, there was an uprising."

Finnick's eyes go dark, "Did you get hurt? Did anyone get hurt?"

"I didn't get hurt. It was after Effie already called our names. Instead of clapping everyone raised their three fingers in salute to us and the peacekeepers reacted. Pushing everyone back, but they didn't move back. They held their ground. When the peacekeepers started fighting them they, they pulled out pieces of coal, lighting them on fire and sticking them inside the peacekeepers suits. The peacekeepers were burning. They started shooting randomly into the crowd until the people started to disperse. But they didn't they kept on going taking peacekeepers down with them." I say in a rush.

"And Annie? Prim? Your mom?" he says in panic.

"I don't know for sure, but right before we were getting pushed into the justice building I saw them running up the path to the justice building. Rye and Nate and Thomas were with them. And a little behind them Hazelle and Gale and the kids were following. Only one Peacekeeper tried to follow them but Gale was fast than him, lighting him on fire."

Finnick lets out a relieved breath.

"But what if they aren't now? What if they came for them?" I panic now.

"They are smart Katniss." He tells me reassuringly, "Besides Gale was with them, so were Thomas, and Rye and Nate. Do you think they would let anything happen to them?"

"Would they let them? No, but…" I say.

"We have to believe that they will be okay, love. It's the only way." He whispers and pulls me even closer.

And I know he's right.

Effie knocks on the door calling us to dinner.

As we walk into the familiar room I come face to face with Darius, the peacekeeper from District 12, then a chill runs through me and I am stunned.

Darius is our new avonx.

Haymitch grips my wrist as if anticipating my next move, but I am as speechless as the Capitol's torturers have rendered Darius. Haymitch once told me they did something to Avoxes' tongues so they could never talk again. In my head I hear Darius's voice, playful and bright, ringing across the Hob to tease me. If Gale could see him ...

I know any move I would make toward Darius, any act of recognition, would only result in punishment for him. So we just stare into each other's eyes. Darius, now a mute slave; me, now headed to death. What would we say, anyway? That we're sorry for the other's lot? That we ache for the other's pain? That we're glad we had the chance to know each other?

No, Darius shouldn't be glad he knew me. If Gale and I didn't get whipped by Thread, he wouldn't have stepped forward to save Gale. Wouldn't be an Avox. And more specifically, wouldn't be my Avox, because President Snow has so obviously had him placed here for my benefit.

I twist my wrist from Haymitch's grasp and head to the table. I'm not aware of much at dinner except that Darius and the redheaded Avox girl are our servers. Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, Portia, Finnick and Peeta are all there, talking about the opening ceremonies, I suppose. But the only time I really feel present is when I purposely knock a dish of peas to the floor and, before anyone can stop me, crouch down to clean them up. Darius is right by me when I send the dish over, and we two are briefly side by side, obscured from view, as we scoop up the peas. For just one moment our hands meet. I can feel his skin, rough under the buttery sauce from the dish. In the tight, desperate clench of our fingers are all the words we will never be able to say. Then Effie's clucking at me from behind about how "That isn't your job, Katniss!" and he lets go.

After dinner, Finnick takes me to the elevator. Surprised, I ask, "What are we doing?"

Finnick looks nervous, suddenly, "Umm, you'll see."

He takes me all the way down the elevator and out the door of the training center.

"Are we allowed out of the training center?" I ask him.

"Do you care?" he asks amused.

I shrug, "No." And I don't. I remind myself I'm not playing by anyone's rules but my own.

There is a car waiting on the street and Finnick opens the passenger side door for me, and then gets behind the driver seat.

"You know how to drive a car?" I say, and as we pull off the curb I am even more surprised.

"No I don't, I just thought I would put both of our lives in danger, doesn't matter since we are going into the Quell in a week anyways," he winks at me teasingly.

Rolling my eyes at him I ask, "Where did you get this car?"

He hesitates, but offers an answer, "It's mine. I kept a car here for when I was in the Capitol it made things easier, I um I also have an apartment here too."

Of course he would, he was in the Capitol often, serving President Snow. "Is that where we are going now?"

He shakes his head, "No, I hate that place, I hope you never go there, its just a reminder.."

I nod, not saying anything else. Finnick drives through the city seeming to know exactly where he is going. And of course he does he practically lived here for five years. When we pull into a small hospital I start to get worried.

"Finnick what are we doing here? Are you hurt?" the hospital isn't the same as the one I was in last year after the games, this one looks more like a clinic.

"No Katniss I'm fine. I know the doctor here, she's a friend of mine. She won't tell anyone we were here."

"Why are we here?" I'm confused.

"Kat, I, I want to see the baby." My face falls. I want to see the baby too, but why torture myself when... when I'm not going to be able to keep it because in a few weeks time I'm going to be dead. He seems to sense my reaction because he says, "Please Kat," taking my hand. "I want to see and dream what my life could have been with you, even if it's only for a few days... please love."

And I can't deny him that. We walk into the hospital and we are greeted by a lady in a white doctor's coat. Recognizing us she ushers us into a room and closes the door, as if to not cause any commotion.

"Finnick Odair," she holds out her arms and hugs him, "How good it is to see you, and this must be your fiance?"

He hugs her back and asks, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Have I ever not before?" she smiles.

"This is my wife, Katniss." He tells her and I can't help but smile because that is the first time he has ever introduced me as his wife.

She smiles big and gives me a hug do, and I can't help but return it. "I'm so happy for you Finny." she tells him.

"Katniss this is Dr. Johnson, she was one of my first friends in the Capitol. She took on the job of looking after me."

I smile at her, "How did you meet?" As soon as the words are out I want to pull them back because they most likely met...

"She's my neighbor," he tells me and rolls his eyes. He must have seen the panic on my face.

They talk for a few moments about the flowers that bloomed outside their apartments, and normal neighbor stuff. I like Dr. Johnson; she doesn't seem like the rest of the citizens in the capitol.

"Now I'm sure you didn't come here just to visit a friend, what can I do for you?" she asks us.

I instantly put my hand over my stomach, "Well Kat is pregnant, and we'd like to see the baby."

I see tears in her eyes but only for a moment, and then she is bursting with action. She has my lay on the bed, and she is wheeling over a cart with a monitor and some kind of machine on it. Finnick sits next to me and holds my hand. She squirts some gel stuff onto my stomach and and rubs a tube along around my stomach. Within seconds a small baby, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand appears on the screen. She zooms in and I grip Finnick's hands so tight I'm afraid I might break his fingers but he doesn't complain.

I can see little arms and legs, and then I'm crying because I love this baby already.

"Your about 14 weeks pregnant, the baby is healthy." She tells us, "I promise, your secret is safe with me. I wish you both the very best." And she leaves us, I can tell she is crying too.

Finnick takes me in his arms and I feel his tears on my cheek. As much as this makes it harder, I'm glad we saw the baby. After a few moments we sneak back out to the car.

In the car and all the way up to the 12th floor of the training center we are quiet. Finnick walks me to my room and I can't bare to have him leave so I pull him onto the bed with me. I'm not sure how long we lay on the bed together, Finnick rubbing my stomach where the baby is, where a small bump is raised over my pants. Eventually I fall asleep.

I don't have any nightmares. In fact they are worse than nightmares.

 _"Momma, momma," a little hand pulls on my shirt tail, I look down to see a small blonde hair, green eyed child, A perfect mix of me and Finnick. She must be around 5._

 _"What is it my sweet?" I ask her._

 _"When is Uncle Peeta coming?"_

 _"He should be here any minute." I say looking at the clock._

 _He should be here soon the party starts in an hour, and he promised to help._

 _The sound of little feet running down the hall way fills the house, and I turn expectantly, two more children come in. A boy with dark hair matching Finnick's and my blue eyes looks right at me, "Momma, Auntie Annie won't let us help."_

 _I laugh, "How about you come help me instead?" I ask and the both walk over excited. The boy must be around 3, and another girl that looks just like Finnick toddles over behind him. I'm about to give them each a spoon and a bowl when the back door to the kitchen opens._

 _"Uncle Peeta!" "Uncle Peeta!" Small voices squeal and run to him grabbing his legs._

 _"Whoah, now can't have me dropping this cake on you." he pretends to drop it on them and they all squeal in delight. Peeta puts the cake on the table and leans over kissing my fore head. He drops down to floor level and hugs all three of them. Then pretends to chase them, leaving the youngest one behind._

 _"What is all the commotion down here?" Finnick asks, as the youngest starts to fuss, Finnick picks her up cuddling her, "Won't be long before you can keep up with them, but for now why don't you just stick with Daddy?"_

 _This seems to make her happy, "Dada. Dada play?"_

 _Finnick comes over to me with our youngest and kisses me. She reaches over and grabs onto my hair. "Me too. Me too, kiss." she points to her cheek and Finnick and I both kiss her at the same time making her squeal._

 _Annie comes in the kitchen she looks to be about 16, "Decorations are up in the living room."_

 _"Thank you Annie." Finnick smiles at her._

 _"Party for me, dada?"_

 _"No sweety, not this time, the party is for Aunt Johanna. But we will have a party for you soon too don't worry."_

 _Annie comes to take over what I'm cooking and Peeta joins her._

I bolt upright. I was dreaming about us. It must be years from now. We are living in District 12, in a house I don't recognize. I'm cooking, actually cooking. There are three little children running around and Annie was there. We were throwing a party. A party for Aunt Johanna? I'm not sure about that part. I realize this is exactly what Finnick wanted other than seeing the baby, he wanted me to want to stay alive. He wants me to let him protect me. Well he got that, but not in the way he hoped. I want that life with Finnick, I don't want it without him. Without him that life does not exist.


	64. Chapter 64 Training Day One

**Just like the book with a few differences, but training day number two, gets more interesting. I still wanted to show a little bit about all the tributes.**

 **Chapter Sixty Four: Training Day One**

When I wake up I am by myself in bed. Finnick is already gone.

I delay going down to breakfast as long as possible because I really don't want to watch the recap or discuss our training strategy. What's to discuss? Every victor already knows what everybody else can do. Or used to be able to do, anyway. So Peeta and I will continue to act as brother and sister and that's that. I will continue to act in love with Finnick. Neither of those two things will be a problem because they are both true. Somehow I'm just not up to talking about it. I take a long shower, dress slowly in the outfit Cinna has left for training, and orfer food from the menu in my room. I eat trying to drag out the minutes until ten o'clock, when we have to go down to the Traiing Center.

By nine, Haymitch is pounding on my door, obviously fed up with me, ordering me to the dining room NOW!

The dining room's empty except for Peeta and Haymitch, whose face is flushed with drink and anger. On his wrist he wears a solid-gold bangle with a pattern of flames — this must be his concession to Effie's matching-token plan — that he twists unhappily. It's a very handsome bangle, really, but the movement makes it seem like something confining, a shackle, rather than a piece of jewelry. "You're late," he snarls at me.

We watch the recap of the opening ceremonies. As I watch the procession to the City Circle, I think how it's bad enough that they dress us all up in costumes and parade us through the streets in chariots on a regular year. Kids in costumes are silly, but aging victors, it turns out, are pitiful. A few who are on the younger side, like Johanna and Finnick, or whose bodies haven't fallen into disrepair, like Seeder and Brutus, can still manage to maintain a little dignity. But the majority, who are in the clutches of drink or morphling or illness, look grotesque in their costumes, depicting cows and trees and loaves of bread. Last year we chattered away about each contestant, but today there's only the occasional comment. Small wonder the crowd goes wild when Peeta and I appear, looking so young and strong and beautiful in our brilliant costumes. The very image of what tributes should be.

Haymitch starts talk about training. "Today, in training, you've got three jobs. One, keep the brother and sister image."

"Obviously," I say, "It's not like we are suddenly going to stop being siblings."

Haymitch ignores my comment and continues, "Two, toughen up your image." He looks at me.

"What?"

"Right now most of them know you as the darling little girl. Although cute as it was and necessary at the time, it's hurting you more than helping you now. Ditch it."

"And how exactly do you expect me to do that?" I ask.

"As long as you're being yourself, it shouldn't be that difficult." Haymitch says and I roll my eyes at him.

"Why do we even have to go to training? There is nothing there that they can teach us that we don't already know." I suggest.

"Because you are going to need to work on number three, make some friends,"

"No," I say. "I don't trust any of them, I can't stand most of them."

"That's what I said at first, but—" Peeta begins.

"But it won't be enough," Haymitch insists. "You're going to need more allies this time around."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're at a distinct disadvantage. Your competitors have known each other for years. So who do you think they're going to target first?" he says.

"Us. And nothing we're going to do is going to override any old friendship," I say. "So why bother?"

"Because you can fight. You're popular with the crowd. That could still make you desirable allies. But only if you let the others know you're willing to team up with them. Besides your husband is friends with people he'll want to team up with some of them," says Haymitch.

"You mean you want us in the Career pack this year?" I ask, unable to hide my distaste.

Traditionally the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 join forces, possibly taking in a few other exceptional fighters, and hunt down the weaker competitors. Then I realize, Finnick was a career, why did I never think of this before?

"That's been our strategy, hasn't it? To train like Careers?" counters Haymitch. "And who makes up the Career pack is generally agreed upon before the Games begin. Peeta barely got in with them last year."

I think of the hurt I felt when I discovered Peeta was with the Careers during the last Games. "So we're to try to get in with Brutus — is that what you're saying?"

"Not necessarily. Everyone's a victor. Make your own pack if you'd rather. Choose who you like. I'd suggest Chaff and Seeder. Although you obviously are already in with Finnick," says Haymitch. "Find someone to team up with who might be of some use to you. Remember, you're not in a ring full of trembling children anymore. These people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in."

Maybe he's right. Only who could I trust? Seeder maybe. But do I really want to make a pact with her, only to possibly have to kill her later? No. Still, I made a pact with Rue under the same circumstances. I tell Haymitch I'll try, even though I think I'll be pretty bad at the whole thing. Maybe Finnick will help.

Effie shows up a bit early to take us down because last year, even though we were on time, we were the last two tributes to show up. But Haymitch tells her he doesn't want her taking us down to the gym. None of the other victors will be showing up with a babysitter, and being the youngest, it's even more important we look self-reliant. So she has to satisfy herself with taking us to the elevator, fussing over our hair, and pushing the button for us.

It's such a short ride that there's no real time for conversation, but when Peeta takes my hand, I don't pull it away even though it makes me feel like a little girl being led by her big brother, because in training we must appear as an inseparable team.

Effie needn't have worried about us being the last to arrive. Only Brutus and the woman from District 2, Enobaria, are present. Enobaria looks to be about thirty and all I can remember about her is that, in hand-to-hand combat, she killed one tribute by ripping open his throat with her teeth. She became so famous for this act that, after she was a victor, she had her teeth cosmetically altered so each one ends in a sharp point like a fang and is inlaid with gold. She has no shortage of admirers in the Capitol.

By ten o'clock, only about half of the tributes have shown up. Finnick isn't there yet. Atala, the woman who runs training, begins her spiel right on time, unfazed by the poor attendance. Maybe she expected it. I'm sort of relieved; because that means there are a dozen people I don't have to pretend to make friends with. Atala runs through the list of stations, which include both combat and survival skills, and releases us to train.

I tell Peeta I think we'd do best to split up, thus covering more territory. When he goes off to chuck spears with Brutus and Chaff, I head over to the knot-tying station; thinking of Finnick, hardly anyone ever bothers to visit it. I like the trainer and he remembers me fondly, maybe because I spent time with him last year. He's pleased when I show him I can still set the trap that leaves an enemy dangling by a leg from a tree. Clearly he took note of my snares in the arena last year and now sees me as an advanced pupil, so I ask him to review every kind of knot that might come in handy and a few that I'll probably never use. I'd be content to spend the morning alone with him, but after about an hour and a half, someone puts his arms around me from behind, his fingers easily finishing the complicated knot I've been sweating over. Of course it's Finnick, who seems to have spent his childhood doing nothing but wielding tridents and manipulating ropes into fancy knots for nets, I guess. I watch for a minute while he picks up a length of rope, makes a noose, and then pretends to hang himself for my amusement.

I roll my eyes, "Not funny Finnick."

He smiles at me and kisses my cheek. "I believe you are suposed to be making friends, love." he whispers.

I roll my eyes at him again. He must have spoken with Haymitch, "Where have you been?" I ask suspiciously. "Off covertly with Haymitch, to make sure I do what I'm told?"

He laughs, "Only because I agree with him on this one. And it's not just for.."

"I know, I know. It's not just for my benefit it's for Peeta's and yours too. Is that how you are going to get me to do everything you want me to?"

He smirks knowingly and I head off to the fire starting station. The two tributes from District 3 are beside me, struggling to start a decent fire with matches. If I have to report back to Haymitch that I tried to make friends, these two might be a bearable choice.

The woman, Wiress, is probably around my mother's age and speaks in a quiet, intelligent voice. But right away I notice she has a habit of dropping off her words in mid-sentence, as if she's forgotten you're there. Beetee, the man, is older and somewhat fidgety. He wears glasses but spends a lot of time looking under them. They're a little strange, but I'm pretty sure neither of them is going to try to make me uncomfortable by stripping naked. And they're from District 3. Maybe they can even confirm my suspicions of an uprising there.

Wiress and Beetee make decent company. They seem friendly enough but don't pry. Then he talks about his recent success creating a musical chip that is tiny enough to be concealed in a flake of glitter but can hold hours of songs. I remember Octavia talking about this during the wedding shoot, and I see a possible chance to allude to the uprising.

"Oh, yeah. My prep team was all upset a few months ago, I think, because they couldn't get hold of that," I say casually. "I guess a lot of orders from District Three were getting backed up."

Beetee examines me under his glasses. "Yes. Did you have any similar backups in coal production, this year?" he asks.

"Well, we lost a couple of weeks when they brought in a new Head Peacekeeper and his crew, but nothing major until now," I say. "The mines are closed now, there was um some kind of fire." I have no idea if this is true or not, but my guess is that they are closed down now.

I think they understand what I'm trying to say. That we've had an uprising only recently. "Oh. That's a shame," says Wiress but she smiles. "I found your district very ..." She trails off, distracted by something in her head.

"Interesting," fills in Beetee. "We both did."

As we move over to the shelter station, Wiress stops and gazes up at the stands where the Gamemakers are roaming around, eating and drinking, sometimes taking notice of us.

"Look," she says, giving her head a slight nod in their direction. I look up and see Plutarch Heavensbee in the magnificent purple robe with the fur-trimmed collar that designates him as Head Gamemaker. He's eating a turkey leg. It makes me remember what Finnick said about Plutarch being a rebel. It seems so unlikely but I doubt Finnick would lie to me about it.

"There by the corner of the table. You can just ..." says Wiress.

Beetee squints under his glasses. "Just make it out."

I stare in that direction, perplexed. But then I see it. A patch of space about six inches square at the corner of the table seems almost to be vibrating. It's as if the air is rippling in tiny visible waves, distorting the sharp edges of the wood and a goblet of wine someone has set there.

"A force field. They've set one up between the Game-makers and us. I wonder what brought that on," Beetee says.

"Me, probably," I confess. "Last year I shot an arrow at them during my private training session." Beetee and Wiress look at me curiously. "I was provoked. So, do all force fields have a spot like that?"

"Chink," says Wiress vaguely.

"In the armor, as it were," finishes Beetee. "Ideally it'd be invisible, wouldn't it?" I want to ask them more, but lunch is announced. I look for Finnick, but he's hanging with a group of about ten other victors including Peeta, so I decide just to eat with District 3. Maybe I can get Seeder to join us.

When we make our way into the dining area, I see some of Peeta's gang have other ideas. They're dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that we all have to eat together. Now I don't know what to do. Even at school I used to avoid eating at a crowded table. Frankly, I'd probably have sat alone if Madge hadn't made a habit of joining me. I guess I'd have eaten with Gale except, being two grades apart, our lunch never fell at the same time.

I take a tray and start making my way around the food-laden carts that ring the room. Finnick catches up with me at the stew. and Peeta is right behind him, "How's it going?"

"Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors," I say. "Wiress and Beetee."

"Really?" Peeta asks. "They're something of a joke to the others."

"Why does that not surprise me?" I say. I think of how Peeta was always surrounded at school by a crowd of friends. It's amazing, really, that he ever took any notice of me except to think I was odd.

"Johanna's nicknamed them Nuts and Volts," Finnick says. "She's Nuts and he's Volts."

"And so I'm stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling," I retort.

"Actually I think the nickname's been around for years." Peeta says.

"Well, Wiress and Beetee are smart. They invent things. They could tell by sight that a force field had been put up between us and the Gamemakers. And if we have to have allies, I want them." I toss the ladle back in a pot of stew, splattering us with the gravy.

"What are you so angry about?" Peeta asks, wiping the gravy from his shirtfront. "Because I teased you on the elevator? I'm sorry. I thought you would just laugh about it."

"Forget it," I say with a shake of my head. "It's a lot of things." My hormones aren't helping.

"Darius," he says.

"Darius. The Games. Haymitch making us team up with the others," I say.

"We don't have to team up with anyone," Peeta says.

"Yes you do," says Finnick indicating himself.

I roll my eyes at him, I've been rolling my eyes a lot today. "Thats a given. But maybe Haymitch is right," I say. "Don't tell him I said so, but he usually is, where the Games are concerned."

"Well, you can have final say about our allies. But right now, I'm leaning toward Chaff and Seeder," says Peeta.

"I'm okay with Seeder, not Chaff," I say. "Not yet, anyway."

"Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again," says Peeta.

"He will not kiss you," Finnick says, but with a smile, "and if he tries he never will again."

I sit between Peeta and Finnick at luch. Chaff doesn't seem as bad at lunch. I can see why he would be good for Haymitch but I'm still not sure I'm ready to team up with him.

I try hard to be more socialble, not just with Chaff but with the group at large. After lunch I do the edible insect station with the district 8 tributes, Cevelia who's got three kids at hom and Woof, a really old guy who's hard of hearing and doesn't seem to know what's going on since he keeps trying to stuff poisonous bugs in his mouth. Cashmere and Gloss, the other sister and brother team from District 1, invite me over and we make hammocks for a while. They're polite but cool, and I spend the whole itme thinking about how I killed both the tributes from their district last year, and that they probably knew them and might have even been their mentors. Both my hammock and my attempt to conect with them are mediocre at best. I join Enobaria at sword training and exchange a few comments, but its clear neither of us wants to team up.

Finnick appears again when I'm picking up fishing tips, he introduces me to Mags, the elderly woman from his district and his mentor. Mags was the one that stayed with Annie when Finnick had to be in the Capitol too. Finnick kisses my cheek and leaves to go to the camoflauge station with Peeta. I know Mags is important to Finnick. With Mags's garbled speech, possible from a stroke, I can't make out more than one in four words. But I swear she can make a decent fish hook out of anything. After a while I tune out the trainer and simply try to copy whatever Mags does. When I make a pretty good hook out of a bent nail and fasten it to some strands of my hair, she gives me a toothless smile and an unitelligible comment I think might be praise. Suddenly I remember how she volunteered to replace the young, hysterical woman in her district. It couldn't be because she thought she had any chance of winning. She did it to save the girl, just like I volunteered last year to save Prim. And I decide I want her on my team.

I laugh at myself, I'm sure she was going to be on our team anyways. There's no way Finnick would just abandon her.

Great. Now I have to go back and tell haymitch I want an eighty-year-old and nuts and volts for my allies. He'll love that.

So I give up trying to make friends and go over to the archery range for some sanity. It's wonderful there, getting to try out all the different bows and arrows. The trainer, Tax, seeing that the standing targets offer no challenge for me, begins to launch these silly fake birds high into the air for me to hit. At first it seems stupid, but it turns out to be kind of fun. Much more like hunting a moving creature. Since I'm hitting everything he throws up, he starts increasing the number of birds he sends airborne. I forget the rest of the gym and the victors and how miserable I am and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down five birds in one round, I realize it's so quiet I can hear each one hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the victors have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration.

After training, Peeta and I hang out, waiting for Haymitch and Effie to show up for dinner. When we're called to eat, Haymitch pounces on me immediately. "So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally. I know it can't be your sunny personality."

"They saw her shoot," says Peeta with a smile. "Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time. I'm about to put in a formal request myself."

"You're that good?" Haymitch asks me. "So good that Brutus wants you?"

I shrug. "But I don't want Brutus. I want Mags and District Three."

"Of course you do." Haymitch sighs and orders a bottle of wine. "I'll tell everybody you're still making up your mind."


	65. Chapter 65 Friends

**Chapter Sixty Five: Friends**

On the second day of training, after my shooting exhibition, I still get teased some, but I no longer feel like I'm being mocked. In fact, I feel as if I've somehow been initiated into the victors' circle and not just because I'm Finnick's fiance or Peeta's sister. I spend time with almost everybody headed for the arena. Even the morphlings, who, with Peeta's help, paint me into a field of yellow flowers. Finnick, gives me an hour of trident lessons in exchange for an hour of archery instruction. And the more I come to know these people, the worse it is. Because, on the whole, I don't hate them. And some I like. And a lot of them are so damaged that my natural instinct would be to protect them. But all of them must die if I'm to save Finnick or Peeta.

I'm leaving the knife throwing station when I see Finnick approaching me. I smile at first but then I see Johanna following him.

"Hows making friends going, love?" Finnick asks me, snaking his arm around my waist.

I sigh, "I've decided I don't want to be friends with anyone."

He smirks, "Well, that's great because I've decided you and Johanna have to be friends." He laughs, "But you've never been one to do what your told have you?" he raises an eyebrow at me.

I turn so I'm facing him, "It depends on whose doing the telling, and what they are telling me to do." I run my hand along the length of his chest.

He takes in a sharp breath, and his eyes darken. He pulls me closer to him and kisses me, his hand on my back pulling me closer to him. I lean into his kiss, enjoying every second.

Finnick pulls away from me suddenly, with an annoyed look on his face. Then I see one of the trainers standing behind him, obviously trying to get our attention.

"Excuse me, Mr. Odair and Miss Everdeen, tributes are forbidden to come in contact with each other before entering the arena."

"I'm not allowed to kiss my fiancé?" he asks her.

"No, not until you're in the arena." The training attendant says. I notice all eyes are on us, including the gamemakers.

Anger flares up inside me, "So you're telling me that I can't do what I want with my fiancé in the last days we have until one or both of us is dead?!"

"The rule is, tributes are forbidden to come in contact with each other before the arena." She states again.

"And if we do?" I ask.

"Then you will be asked to leave training."

I smile at Finnick, and he kisses me lingeringly then pulls back just enough to say, "I didn't want to be here anyways, did you love?"

"Nope." I agree and he leads me to the elevators. I look back to the training center and I see everyone watching us. Most of them are smiling, on our side, leaving only a few who couldn't care less. I look for Peeta and I am surprised to see him talking to Johanna. Johanna looks at me and gives me a look of approval. Maybe being friends with Johanna isn't so far off.

We ride the elevator up all the way 12. When we get there we find Haymitch and Effie sitting at the table talking quietly. The look up when they see us. Effie checks her watch.

"Is everything okay? Why are you here now?" she asks.

I almost feel guilty but not quite when I tell her, "We got kicked out of training." Finnick and I share a smile.

"You got kicked out of training!" Haymitch stands up from the table, glancing at the clock.

"Oh my goodness! What did you two do? Oh no, don't tell me. Oh, do you know what this means? Do you know what kind of trouble you could be in?" Effie says heading toward her room, mumbling something about damage control.

"So, let's have it." Haymitch says, glancing at the clock again.

Finnick and I join him at the table and tell him what happened. To my surprise, Haymitch chuckles, no longer seeming mad, "I would have liked to see their faces."

"It was pretty priceless," Peeta says.

I turn, not knowing he was up here until he spoke. I'm more surprised to see Johanna with him. They join us at the table.

"They were in shock." Johanna says, "I don't think anyone has flat out refused to follow their rules like that before that was pretty awesome." She gives me a genuine smile.

"And so you two just decided to follow them out?" Haymitch asks.

"We decided to get kicked out of training too." Johanna says, and Peeta's face turns red.

Finnick laughs. Looking at Peeta I know it's true. I shake my head, I'm not sure how I feel about Johanna kissing my brother. In fact I don't think I like it at all.

"Do you think we'll get in a lot of trouble?" Peeta asks Haymitch.

"What are they going to do?" Johanna asks, "Throw us into an arena and force us to fight to the death?"

"I think Johanna's right," Haymitch says, and she looks smug, "They can't really do anything to you, not until you get into the arena anyways. They can make you pay for it then."

"Well, they've already promised to do that anyways." I say.

"Haymitch? Is it okay?" Finnick asks him.

"In the middle of your explaining it took affect. That's why I'm not screaming at you. And that's why Effie had to leave." Haymitch explains.

What are they talking about. I give them both questioning looks. And they exchange looks above me debating whether or not to tell me what they are talking about.

"Are you seriously not going to tell them?" Johanna rolls her eyes, "The cameras are disabled now. Beetee has them running in a loop for the meeting tonight."

I smile in thanks to Johanna, and turn to Finnick and Haymitch, "You were going to keep this from us?"

"We hadn't decided yet, sweetheart, but I guess cats out of the bag now." Haymitch says.

Standing up in aggravation, "You can't seriously still be trying to keep me out of this?" I ask looking between Finnick and Haymitch.

"We were just trying to protect you, love. If you know too much, and you get caught—" Finnick shudders unable to complete his sentence but I understand what he means.

"It's too late for that, I'm already in this. Let me help. Stop trying to protect me. Let me be an asset instead of a liability." Out of nowhere tears are rolling down my cheeks. Damn hormones, I stomp my foot and turn to head out on the roof.

A few minutes later I hear the door open again. "Don't even say it, I know I'm being ridiculous, these stupid hormones messing with me." I put my hand on my stomach feeling the firmness.

"Well I happen to think you are completely right." Johanna's voice takes me by surprise.

"I thought you were Finnick." I say turning to face her.

"He's inside arguing with Peeta and Haymitch. I can go get him…" she indicates to the door.

I shake my head, "No it's okay. I can use a minute to figure out my thoughts before he tries to change my mind." I sigh.

She comes to sit by me. "You know, for a long time, I didn't like you. In fact I hated you."

"Well, thanks for telling me." I say.

"I'm not done yet, brainless." She swats my arm, "I watched you in your games. You gave hope to so many people. Started rebellions in districts. Things we've wanted to do for years. And then you played by the Capitol's rules. Dressing in silly dresses, acting like an innocent child, and I hated you for it. How could you let them control you?"

"I didn't have a choice." I say.

"Everyone in the district's forgave you for it, because they understood. But I guess I never did. There's nobody left I love, nobody they can hurt me with." Johanna says looking off into the distance. "And then you just made things more complicated for Finnick. But I think I get it now. Seeing you two together, I can see how much he loves you, and you him. I don't understand it, but I get why you had to follow their rules. If that makes sense. But I'm glad you're not now. You know, you might not actually be that bad."

"Well thanks, I think." I say.

"Don't let him keep you out of it. Your right, you need to know. Meetings tonight at 10."

"Thanks Johanna, I don't intend to be left out of anything."

She looks down at my stomach, then back at me, "Make 'em pay for it."

I smile, "Nothing else I'd rather do."

We start walking to the door, but before we get there, I pause. "Um, nobody knows, about the baby." I tell her.

"Secrets safe with me." She says and we head back to the dining room.

Well it turns out I might have made a friend after all. Well, kind of.


	66. Chapter 66 Rebels

**Chapter Sixty Six: Rebels**

We head back into the dining room and find just Finnick and Peeta. They are laughing together about something.

"Done arguing I take it?" Johanna says.

They shrug in response. I go over to Finnick and he takes me into his arms and onto his lap. "So are we all friends now?" Finnick asks us.

This time Johanna and I shrug.

Finnick takes that as a postitive, "In that case, Johanna I would like to introduce you to my wife, Katniss Odair." Finnick smiles, "We decided we didn't want a Capitol wedding."

Hearing him call me his wife makes me smile.

Johanna laughs. "That is perfect! I can't say I'm totally surprised though."

"Johanna found out about the baby," I tell them.

Finnick nods and his hands find my stomach, resting right over the small bump.

"So what do we do now?" Peeta asks.

"I'm starving; I say we start by ordering some lunch." Johanna puts in and we all agree.

We enjoy the rest of the afternoon together. After we eat we all head up to the roof and just relalx. Enjoying sometime away from the Games. It isn't long until we are called to dinner. Johanna leaves saying she will return for the meeting later. And to my disappointment Finnick has to leave to.

After dinner I return to my room to wait until the meeting. Sprawling across the bed, I allow myself to hope. To hope that there is a chance.

A knock at the door makes me sit up and holler, "Come in."

I smile when I see it's Peeta, "Can I come in, Kat?" I nod and he comes to sit by me. "I feel like I haven't really gotten to talk too just you since we've been here."

I nod, feeling guilty. I've been spending a lot of time with Finnick.

"How are you feeling?" he asks indicating my stomach.

I shrug, "Fine I guess, just tired really. Did you really kiss Johanna?" blurt out.

Peeta's face turns the color of a tomato and I know the answer before he even responds, "Yeah." Is all he's able to get out but I can see he is smiling.

"You liked it didn't you?" I ask him.

His face turns even redder, "I can't believe I'm talking about this with you, my baby sister. Can we talk about something else?"

Ignoring his plea, "Your _baby_ sister, might be having a baby of her own. And I'm going to have to keep an extra eye on Johanna." I wonder if this is how he felt about Finnick.

"It was just a kiss." He says, "Meant nothing."

"Yeah, this" I point to my belly, "started with just a kiss too."

Peeta cringes, then a thought occurs to him, "What do you mean might be having a baby? You are pregnant right?"

"Yes, I am definitely pregnant," I place my hand on top of my stomach, and after reminding myself I've already let this go, I continue, "I just, I'm not going to get to see this baby."

I'm surprised when Peeta doesn't argue with me; instead he takes me in his arms and hugs me tight.

When he releases me he looks very serious, "Katniss, I'm not saying I'm not going to try to get you home, because I'm going to do everything I can to do that, but if I'm being perfectly honest about it…" he trails off.

"If you're perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway." I say finishing for him.

"It's crossed my mind," Peeta says.

It's crossed my mind, too. Repeatedly. But while I know I'll never leave that arena alive, I'm still holding on to the hope that either Finnick of Peeta will. After all, the only thing Finnick is guilty of is falling in love with me. And Peeta didn't pull out those berries, I did. No one has ever doubted Peeta. So maybe President Snow will allow one of them to stay alive.

"But even if that happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting, right?" Peeta asks.

"Everyone will." Yes, I will go down fighting, and defiant. Everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow's dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I'm still defying the Captiol right up to the end, the Captiol will have killed me, but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels.

The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Finnick of Peeta alive at the expense of my own is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Captiol's rules. My provate agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save one of them… in terms of revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. They would lose it if they knew I was thinking any of this.

"What do you think the meeting is going to be about?" Peeta asks.

"I'm not sure, but I'm hoping they have some kind of plan. They have to. And I hope there is something we can still do."

"It'd be nice to know we weren't dying for nothing." Peeta says.

Peeta goes to his room and I lay down on the bed to try and take a nap. I don't want to be tired for this meeting.

I wake up to someone sitting on the bed. Opening one eye I see Finnick join me on the bed. He takes me into his arms and I gladly cuddle to him. He kisses my forehead.

I sigh.

"What is love?" Finnick asks me.

"I just wish we could be like this forever," I say feeling my eyes fill with tears, thankful that Finnick can't see them.

"Me too. You never know, maybe we can." He says rubbing my back.

Turning so I'm facing him, "Fin, you and I both know the chances of President Snow allowing me to walk out of the arena are slim to none. Nevermind, letting more than one person walk out ever again."

Finnick flinches at my words, "There's gotta be another option, Kat. And I'm going to find it." He tells me seriously.

"I'm too afraid to hope for that." I tell him honestly. I have lot's of hope. Hope for our families. Hope for the rebellion. But hope that Finnick and I will both make it out alive? I can't let myself hope for that, because when it doesn't happen, it will crush me.

Finnick squeezes me tight, "Then I'll just have to hope for both of us."

We lay in silence for a few moments, then Finnick takes a look at his watch, "What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost time to go…" he says, "Katniss, I wish you didn't have to be apart of this." He says quietly.

"Why? I want to Finnick. I'm tired of watching every step I take to not provoke the capitol. I'm ready to fight back."

"I know you are, and I am to. I just wish I could protect you from it. I wish you could always be safe."

"Well, it doesn't look like that is going to happen anytime soon." I say getting up. "We're supposed to be in this together."

He stands up, putting his hands on my shoulders, "We are. We will," I can see he is battling with himself, "from now own, I promise."

"Together?" I ask him.

"Together. Always."

When we get to the dining room, I'm surprised by what I see.

Beetee, Wiress, and Haymitch are looking over a computer screen. Johanna is sitting on the couch talking to Peeta. Seeder and Chaff sit off to the side talking quietly. Blight, Mags, and Cecelia are here. And that is all of the people I recognize, though there are several others.

The elevator dings and out walks Plutarch, Cinna and Effie. _Effie?_ My first thought is that we've been discovered.

Effie sees my face and smiles, "Don't be so surprised, dear." She pats my shoulder as she walks by. She looks at her watch, "All right everyone let's get started."

At her words everyone, including Finnick and I gather around the table.

Everyone starts talking, mostly asking questions all at once, but Plutarch holds up his hands. "I'll answer everyones questions but first let's start by going over the districts."

Beetee presses a button and a map of Panem appears onto the table. Come of the districts are grey, red.

"The districts that are grey nothing is going on, red in open rebellion." Plutarch explains, my heart sinks when I see District 12 is red. _But this is good._ I try to tell myself.

Around the table some people are gasping in surprise.

Pointing to Districts 1 and 2, "Nothing going on here, but that's not to be unexpected. Nothing in 5, 6, or 9. But that is more than half the districts in rebellion. District's 3, 4, 7, 8 are in open rebellion and given a push in the right direction or with a little help will soon have control, but they have been intstructed to wait on word for final take over. District 10 has just started, and seems a little leary to continue down the rebellion path. District 11 is getting hit the hardest," Plutarch looks sympathetically at Seeder and Chaff, "The Capitol won't let it's major food supply go easily, but district 11 is fighting back hard. And that leaves district 12." Plutarch looks right at me and I feel like my heart might jump out of my throat if he doesn't say something soon, "In only a few days time District 12 has managed to take out half of the peacekeeping force, but the Captiol seems to care the least about what happens to it." Plutarch hesitates.

What are they going to do? Is Prim okay? Is Annie? Mom? Rye? Nate? Thomas? Gale? All of those people I love seem so far away, so disconnected to where I am now, but my heart lurches for them.

"What is it Plutarch?" Finnick hisses.

Plutarch takes a deep breath, "There is talk of making District 12 an example, like District 13. But of course 12 doesn't have an underground facility or nuclear weapons to back it up. If the decision goes through, District 12 will be wiped out."

Chills run up my arms, and I want to scream but I can't I'm frozen in shock. _District 12 will be wiped out. District 12 will be wiped out._

"What, what do you mean wiped out? Can they do that?" Finnick asks taking several steps closer to Plutarch with rage in his eyes.

"Yes, yes they can do it." Plutarch answers.

"Well what are we doing about it?" I hear Peeta's voice.

I want to say something, yell something, do something but I can't.

"We are working on an evacuation plan." Plutarch says.

"And?" Finnick demands.

"Evacuation to where?" Peeta asks.

Plutarch holds his hands up in defense. "District 13 has agreed to help, with a few conditions. And if conditions met they will be evacuated to District 13."

Whispers are going all around the room.

 _District 13?_

"Can we take a seat and let me explain everything?" Plutarch speaks to everyone but looks at Finnick who looks like he is about to strangle Plutarch.

"Yes we can do that," Haymitch steps in, "You can always kill him later." Haymitch adds to Finnick.

Plutarch chuckles and tries to look unconcerned.

Everyone starts sitting down. Finnick walks back over to me and looks concerned when I haven't sat down. "Are you okay, love?" He looks at me concerned.

I manage to nod yes, and Finnick pulls me to sit down with him.

"Okay. District 13 is willing to step in. For those of us that don't know," he looks at Peeta and I, "District 13 wasn't destroyed in the last rebellion. They made a deal with the Capitol to remain hidden, but they have been waiting for the right time to defeat the Capitol. They finally think it might be the right time to help us win a revolution. More than half of the districts are in open rebellion, and they think we can actually win this war. And we can, with their help. It won't be easy but it can be done, and it will be. They have agreed to help evacuate District 12."

"How?" Peeta asks.

"If they make the call to demolish District 12, there will be 5 hours notice. An hour before they get there the peacekeepers will abandon the district. 1 hour isn't enough time to evacuate everyone though. The plan is to move small groups out to the woods to be picked up a head of time gradually then there will be enough time to get everyone before the bombs arrive and hopefully keep District 13's cover. It's not a guarantee, but it's as good as it can get."

I let out an audible breath. "When do they start evacuating?" I ask him.

"As soon as all the conditions are met." Plutarch says looking at me.

"What conditions? Why do they need conditions?" Finnick says, and I'm sure if I wasn't sitting on his lap he would have been across the table again.

"Their conditions are that Katniss and Peeta join the rebels officially, and that Katniss will agree to be the mockingjay."


	67. Chapter 67 Mockingjay

**Chatper Sixty Seven: Mockingjay**

"Haven't we already agreed to be rebels?" Peeta asks, "And what do you mean mockingjay?"

"Yes coming to this meeting and agreeing to do what you can for the war effort would be official enough for now." Plutarch turns to look at me, "And if you, Katniss would agree to be the mockingjay, agree to be the face of the rebellion."

"What, what do you mean face of the rebellion? Why me?" I sit up straight and lean forward.

"Being the face of the rebellion you would encourage the people to stand up and fight. You would give them hope."

"How do I do that?" I ask.

"Don't you get it brainless?" Johanna says, "You already have been doing that."

I look around the table to see everyone nodding, agreeing with her.

"But..."

"Katniss, you are the reason the rebellion started. For the first time in a long time, you gave people hope." Seeder answers.

"So I just keep on doing what I have been doing?" I ask Plutarch.

"Pretty much. Show the people of Panem you are on their side. And then after the games take a more public role, but we can talk about that when the time comes." Plutarch answers.

"After the games?" I ask standing up quickly, "What do you mean after the games?"

"The plan will be for you to come out of the arena."

My jaw drops, horrified. I look around the room to see everyone nodding, agreeing. "No!" I say. "I never planned to make it out of the arena alive. And President Snow has probably given direct orders to make sure I never make it out of the arena alive."

"Yes he has." Plutarch looks at me seriously. "But before you die, he wants you to take out your allies, he wants you to be forced to ruin any faith the people in the districts have given you."

"He wants me to kill Finnick? Or Peeta?" I ask jaw dropping, "Nothing is going to make me kill either one of them. Everything I do in the arena will be to keep them alive." I say fiercely.

"Exaclty, Snow underestimates you. For the rebellion, we need you to come out of the arena."

"Do you think I'd be any use to the rebellion if I come out of the arena at the expense of my husband? My brother? Of all of these people I've become friends with? And besides, if I were to win the Capitol would just take custody of me and never let me leave."

There are more whisperings and I realize that most of them did not know about our wedding.

"Which brings me to my second plan: to get as many of you out of the arena as possible."

I throw my hands up in the air, "Well why didn't you start with that?"

"Well, honestly, it might not be possible."

"Plutarch, would you just tell us everything already!" Johanna yells at him.

"This arena will be unlike any other." Plutarch looks at us seriously. "We are going to invade the arena, when we get an opening. And rescue as many of you as we can and bring you to District 13. But you are going to have to keep yourselves alive up until that point."

I fall back down into the chair, Finnick catching me. We look each other in the eye. For the first time I allow myself to hope, to hope that we can make it out, that we can be together, that we can raise this child.

"Not all of the tributes will be in on this plan for obvious reasons. They will be hunting you. Don't take that for granted. We might not get the chance in invade, be prepared for that as well. But it's a chance. If it works, it will be the first victory of the rebellion."

Everyone starts talking excitedly.

Plutarch silences everyone and stands up, "This chance all depends on one thing…" he indicates me.

I sigh, "If it means saving my family, and promoting the rebellion… I'll do it. I just, I just hope I won't let you all down."

After that, we finalize all of the plans. Plutarch assures us that our family will be out of District 12 well before the bombings.

Before leaving everyone gives me a hug, encourages me, congratulates us on our wedding, or tells me I can do it.

Peeta's always been good with charming other people, and so has Finnick. But me? I'm not good at it at all. Peeta's charm must have come from our Dad, but that trait must have missed me.

We make our way to my bedroom. As soon as the door is shut, Finnick asks me, "What's wrong love?"

"I don't know if I can do it Finnick."

"All you have to do is be yourself." He tells me.

I snort.

"I'm serious, Kat. You weren't trying to make me like you when I fell in love with you. You weren't trying to give hope to the whole country when you did. You gave them enough hope to start a rebellion, and you weren't even trying. So relax, and try to forget about it, and it will just happen naturally."

I sigh, "You're just happy about it because it means you won't be the only one protecting me."

He smiles, "I wasn't ever going to be the only one protecting you, but it does make me feel better. There's a chance. There is a chance we will get out of this, and get to live our happily ever after." He says kissing my neck. "Our family is going to be safe in District 13, and before we know it, we'll be joining them."

The rebel meeting has changed everything. And I know Finnick is trying to make me believe that it can really be true. And a part of me is hopeful that it is true, that it will be true. But a larger part of me knows President Snow will not let me go alive that easily. But, _but,_ Finnick and Peeta can both make it out alive. And that knowledge is enough to make me give in to Finnick's happy mood.

After a few hours of kissing and making love, we find ourselves lounging on the bed. Finnick has his hands on my stomach. He kisses my stomach, and looks up at me, "You can really see the bump now." He says smiling.

I sit up looking down at my stomach and realize there is definitely a distinct round bump. Not only can you feel it you can see it too. It's going to be harder to keep it a secret.

Rubbing my stomach, Finnick talks in a baby voice, "Little one, you are going to have the best Mommy in the whole world. And your Daddy isn't going to let anything happen to either one of you."

I can't help but smile, and unwillingly I let myself hope just a little bit more. Tears run down my cheeks.

"Do you want a boy or a girl?" I ask him.

He comes up so we are lying on our sides facing each other. Silently he wipes away my tears, "As long as he or she looks like their mother it doesn't matter to me."

"Well that's a problem then."

"What is?"

"I want him or her to look like you." I say and smile, "Besides, it's going to be a girl." And the moment I say it I know it's true.

"How can you be so sure?"

I shrug, "It's going to be a girl, I just know."

Finnick laughs, "Well, we'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

A few hours later, after we've both fallen asleep there is a knock at the door. There is no sunlight coming from the windows, it must be the middle of the night.

Finnick and I give each other one glance of worry before the knock comes again and we are both up getting dressed as quickly as possible. Finnick puts on his pants and I manage to find his t shirt and a pair of sweat pants.

By the time the knocker knocks again, finnick is pulling the door open.

Seeing it's Haymitch, "What?" he says.

"Come with me." He says grimly.

We groan but follow him out of the room. Something must have happened.

He walks to Peeta's door and then takes all three of us to a room I've never seen before on the other side of the dining room. It must be one of the spare rooms. He ushers us in, "Before I say anything else, know that they are safe now."

"What happened?" I ask frantically.

"President Snow ordered your sisters to be captured. He says to Finnick and I. He wanted to bring them to the Capitol to use against you."

Rage. Rage burns so deep, I'm shaking. And I thought I hated President Snow before this moment, but I hate him more than I ever thought possible.

Finnick stands up and paces across the room punching a hole in the wall.

"They are safe now." Haymitch reminds us.

Peeta puts his hand over mine trying to steady it.

"I'm going to kill him." I say in a steady voice.

Haymitch and Peeta just look at me, not sure what to say.

"Can I finish without you two going homicidal?"

We both turn to glare at him and he shrugs.

"They were brought to the justice building, but they didn't go without a fight. They were in the justice building prison for a day while a group of people planned a rescue mission. They got them out. Annie and Prim are okay. A little bruised, but nothing that a hot bath and several good night's sleep won't fix. But…"

"But someone was hurt?" Peeta asks.

"Yes. Someone was hurt." Haymitch says looking at me. And I know the name that is going to come out of his mouth before he even says it. "It was Gale."

I close my eyes tightly. _Gales hurt, because I wasn't there to protect them._

"He took a knife to his side. But they managed to evacuate him to the district 13 hospital and he is stabilized. Unconsious right now, but they expect him to make a full recovery." Haymitch tells me.

"He is going to be okay, Kat." Peeta tells me.

 _He's going to be okay._ I repeat and take a deep breath.

"Are they all in 13?" I ask Haymitch.

"Prim, Annie, Gale, your Mom, Rye, Thomas, Nate, Hazelle, the kids and a few others from 12 are now safe in District 13." Haymitch says, then turns to Peeta, "They couldn't convince your mother to go with them."

Peeta nods, "I can't say I'm surprised. Maybe when they all start to leave she will change her mind."

"The rest are all safe?" I ask Haymitch.

"Yes, sweetheart, they are all safe." He says.

I almost collapse with relief. I hug Finnick and Peeta and Haymitch.

"This room is secured," Haymitch says, pulling out one of the computer things, he opens it and pushes a button, "You don't have long, but I thought it would mean a lot to you."

The screen flickers and then a picture of Prim comes up on the screen. "Prim!" I say.

"Katniss?"

"Your really there?" I ask.

She smiles, "Yes I am." She giggles and the sound is music to my ears.

"Oh it's so good to see you, little duck. You're okay? Annie's okay?"

"Yes we are both fine." Prim answers.

Annie comes into view, "Katniss, Finnick!"

"Oh Annie, you gave us quite a scare, you know." Finnick says.

Annie laughs, " _We_ gave _you_ a scare?"

"How is it there?" I ask her.

"It's different, but not bad. We have a set of rooms. Prim and I share."

"You're really safe?" I ask her.

Annie and Prim both smile, and nod. They hold the screen up and I can see Mom and Rye and Nate in the background waving.

"We will see you soon, okay?" Finnick tells them.

"All of you?" Annie asks.

"Yes, all of us." Peeta answers from behind me.

Then the screen goes black again.

"District 13 sure acted fast," says Peeta.

That they did. And I'm thankful for them, because if they hadn't Gale might not have made it without a hospital. I might have been a little unsure about district 13, but now they have my faith and support.

I make it all the way back to my bed room before I realize they are really truly safe and that Snow can't touch them. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. They are safe; Snow can't use them against me. A scary smile forms on the corners of my lips.


End file.
